Текст песни
The mist lies low on the mountain’s spine
Where the rowan trees twist and the wild thorns twine
There’s a step on the path that the dew leaves bare
A scent of the earth and the cool night air
He walks with the hounds at the break of the grey
But he’s gone with the dawn like a dream slips away
Oh, Gearoid Iarla, through the heather and the pine
Your heart is a flame that was never mine
With a whistle and a whisper, you call the wind's will
The Lord of the Hunt, the Fox on the Hill
The old ones speak by the fireside low
Of the lady who watched from the window aglow
She spun him a thread of the finest gold
For a love that was fierce, but a tale that is old
He kissed her cold hand, then he rode to the fray
But he left her a curse or a blessing to stay
Oh, Gearoid Iarla, through the heather and the pine
Your heart is a flame that was never mine
With a whistle and a whisper, you call the wind's will
The Lord of the Hunt, the Fox on the Hill
The fiddle cries out, the bodhrán beats low
There’s a slip in the jig where the shadows go
He offers a hand made of smoke and of bone
To dance ‘til your soul is no longer your own
The door stands ajar, but the threshold is stone
And the echo just laughs in a wild, ancient tone
Oh, Gearoid Iarla, through the heather and the pine
Your heart is a flame that was never mine
With a whistle and a whisper, you call the wind’s will
The Lord of the Hunt, the Fox on the Hill
So if you hear thunder on a quiet, clear day
Or the baying of hounds where the old oak trees sway
Pull your cloak tight and just let him pass by
He’s a mist on the moor, he’re a tear in the eye
Oh, Gearoid Iarla, through the heather and the pine
Your heart is a flame that was never mine
With a whistle and a whisper, you call the wind’s will
The Lord of the Hunt, the Fox on the Hill
The Fox on the Hill
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