The Devil & The Huntsman
Young man came from hunting
Faint and weary
What does ail my lord, my dearie
Oh brother dear
Let my bed be made
For I feel the gripe of the woody nightshade
Many a man would die as soon
Out of the light of a mage's moon
’twas not by bone,
But yet by blade.
Can break the magic that the devil made
That's not by fire,
But was forged in flame
That can drown the sorrows of a huntsman's pain
This young man he died fair soon
By the light of the hunters' moon
’twas not by bone
Nor yet by blade of the berries of the woody nightshade
Oh father dear lie here be safe
From the path that the devil made