Tuesday, August 22, 2017
 

The Wild Hunt-Matt Walk

When the days have waned shorter

and shadows grown long
And the geese have come singing
their wintertime song

When the moon lights the sky
like a great silver pearl
The furious host
sees its banner unfurl

and with thundering hooves
and the baying of hounds
the dead rise from within
their old burial mounds

Wod Ho, Wod Ho,
the huntsmaster calls out,
and the huntsmen reply,
the same bone chilling shout

Over fields across lakes
and through woods go the pack
great fiery black dogs,
the dread host at their back

Hear the din of the hounds
resound throughout the hollow
Hear the ancient fell cry
of the huntsmen who follow

Wod Ho, Wod Ho
the huntsmaster calls out
And the huntsmen reply,
the same bone chilling shout

They course the night skies
in their search of fair prey
Wise folks stay inside
to keep out of harms way

And woe be to those
who’ve out in the night strayed
Who should happen afoul
of this dread cavalcade

Midden in dem wag!
comes the troups’ warning cry
best heed these few words
or you surely will die

Middle of the way!
booms the voice from the sky
face down on the road
and they may pass you by

Wod Ho, Wod Ho,
the huntsmaster calls out
And the huntsmen reply,
the same bone chilling shout