Song of a Lost Hunter

Pitch black was the night, as black as could be
Lost from his huntings was Poor Henery
His true love is a-waiting, a-tearing her hair
A-waiting to see her love all so fair
A-waiting to see her love all so fair

"Who rides on my land at such an hour
Who is it did?" cries she
"Only I ride at such an hour"
So said my love, Henery
So said my love, Henery

Come down, come down, my love Henery
And stay this night with me
My bed is made all soft and warm
And just for you and me
And just for you and me

I cannot come down, I will not come down
Your words beguile me sore
I have a true love in old Scotland
I wish to see once more
I wish to see once more

I will not let you leave my lands
From me you'll never part
Out of her bosom she took her penknife
And stabs him to the heart
And stabs him to the heart

Come to me, my servant man
Come unto me, I pray
A dead man is in my bed
Let's hide him well away
Let's hide him well away

What is the hour, my servant man?
It is the hour of three
The chickens are a-crowing for the middle of the night
And the blood of poor Henery
And the blood of poor Henery

She took him by his yeller hair
He took him by his feet
They throwed him down beneath the ground
In a hole so dark and deep
In a hole so dark and deep

Come to my bed, my servant man
Come sleep this night with me
My bed is made of the saftest fleece
And it awaits for thee
And it awaits for thee

I will not lay upon your bed
For this can never be
For I'm afeard my blood will run
Like the blood of poor Henery
Like the blood of poor Henery