Song, Chant, Poetry, Stories and Satire for the Pagan Community

This entry made: 03/15/2000

Title: Herne
Lyrics by: Jennifer Holding
Tune:
Date:
Source: http://members.tripod.com/~bardic_circle/herne.htm
Recorded on:
Subject: God

Now sit ye down and I'll tell a tale as strange as any told
Of a lady of the Yorkshire moor where the morning mist lays cold
Her wits had left her long ago, there was madness in her eyes
Though she spoke to none, some days at dawn you could hear her laughing cries

	The Hunter and the Hunted, you wear a thin disguise
	The Moon rides on your shoulder, but the Sun shines from your eyes
	I cannot look upon you, I cannot look away
	But I hear the sound of a hunter's horn
	That greets the dawning day
	Fa la la, la la, la la la la La la, la la la la

She built her cottage years ago and she lived there all alone
She was the only living soul who would call the moor her home
For tales were told of many who had vanished in the dawn
And of madmen who had heard the cry of Herne the Hunter's horn
The lady too had heard the tales but she could never fear
The Hornèd God of winter dreams when she heard him riding near
And then one night her longing eyes saw a figure tall and grim
Like a shadow glimpsed in the misty night and she sang her song to him

He rode his horse up to the door and she bade him enter there
But he simply smiled and reached to lay his hand upon her hair
"My lady I have ridden here in answer to your call
But I'll not sit under any roof nor drink in any hall
You sing to me of your desire but you must understand
My heart belongs to the silver Moon and the wild deserted land.
How can you give your love to one you never can possess
Or sacrifice your sanity for a wild ride and a kiss?"

The lady said, "I hear your words but how can I explain
How a simple touch can bring me joy in spite of all the pain
Be it love or be it madness, I have no will to fight
This inner fire that bids me go and ride with you this night."
The Hunter smiled and said to her, "Your pain I understand
For I have chased the sailing Moon and loved the barren land
I cannot give my heart to you but I'll give you what I may
So take my hand and ride with me until the break of day."

Now many years have been and gone since she rode the misty plain
She never chose to leave the moor and she never spoke again
But it's said by some when the night is done and the moon is shroud in gray
You can hear her laugh with the Hunter's horn at the dawning of the day