When cold winds from the northwest blow,
When moonlight casts its silver glow,
When the dark skies threaten snow
‘Tis then I hear their call.
It echoes through dark forest and fen,
A droning horn—and silence then
That makes the wary traveler ken
The truth behind the squall.
In icy blasts of wind that cut
Through clothes and doors kept tightly shut
There is a pounding; do you seek what
Lies out there in the thrall?
The Horned Man on rugged beast
That hunts the boar to make his feast
Or maybe like some darkened priest
Beckons you to heed the call.
To ride on winds above the ice,
To give the greatest sacrifice,
And surrender to that which does entice…
Are you ready for the fall?
Or perhaps, in swirling dark
You’ll fly just like a meadowlark
And find some light, a warming spark
Of truth behind it all.
Take heed, take heed, oh you who go
To travel in the ice and snow,
For hunters harry you as you go—
Death comes to us all.