[Verse 1]
Young man came from hunting faint, tired 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

[Verse 2]
Men need a man would die as soon
Out of the light of a mage's moon
But it's not by bone, but yet by blade
Can break the magic that the devil made

[Bridge 1]
And it's not my fire, but was forged in flame
Can drown the sorrows of a huntsman's pain

[Verse 3]
This young man he died fair soon
By the light of a hunter's moon
'Twas not by bone, nor yet by blade
Of the berries of the woody nightshade

[Bridge 2]
Oh Father dear lie and be safe
From the path that the devil made