Текст песни Sam Lee - 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 bolt,
but yet by blade
Can break the magic
that the devil made

‘Twas 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 bolt,
nor yet by blade
[But] of the berries
of the woody nightshade

«Oh father dear
lie here be safe
From the path
that the devil made»