The Sky is swollen The Earth awash with tears The Wind is rising like a Serpent And in the wildness Now hear the bone-horn wind The trees are dancing for the Erl-King
The hounds are belling Let loose the trace and traps Let loose the silver on the bridle And in the valley Faintly and far away Slow twisting tension begins building
The hunt is closing The horn winds clear and true A hart is bursting through the forest And in his footfall Eyes dark with prophecy The spectral hunters claim the season
Amid the tumult The white cascading roar The stone that echoes under iron The Earth runs blackened Beneath the hunters moon The blasted oak tree bearing witness