The Hunt approaches:
Hear the breezes moan,
The trepidation in the autumn air.
The Hunt approaches:
Hear the hunting horns
Triumphant in the fields all bare.
The Hunt approaches:
Tearing up the skies
It rages through the mist and rain.
The Hunt approaches:
Hear the gasps and sighs
Of spirits and the souls in pain.
The Hunt approaches:
Sunset never fades
On armour made of finest steel.
The Hunt approaches:
See the swords and spades
Aglow in darkened autumn chill.
The Hunt approaches:
See the Lord of Fae
Appearing by the ancient Tor.
The Hunt approaches:
Do not venture where
It harvests all forgotten souls.
Into the Unknown 