Pray thee, my friend

That you may never be caught

On Oslo’s streets

Alone

And Afraid

Beneath the full moon’s light

 

Pray thee, my friend

That you make your way home

From that meeting in Stockholm

And not find yourself

In the forest

On a cold Swedish night

 

Pray thee, my friend

That Copenhagen winters

 May be spent inside

For the cold bites

And Claws

Like dead men in their graves

 

Pray thee, my friend

That when wandering Reykjavík

Along a silent road

You don't meet the men

On flaming horses

For no one is ever saved

 

 

Beware the night riders

Those of corpse and elves and fae

Who ride on flaming horses

Down each old highway

 

They tear men from their carseats

Steal children from their beds

Fill the night with merciless laughing

As they parade ‘round with their heads

 

Beware now Odin’s folly

Listen to your babes cry

Lock your doors and windows tight

When those horseman ride the sky

 

We know the end times are coming

By their horns we run and hide

Quick! To your offices and homesteads

For now the Wild Hunt does ride