The Night of St. John’s has come and gone,
Would to the Gods I could forget.
For the Wild Hunt rode those ragged skies,
On the highroad was where we met.

I was traveling this cursed road,
As a peddler I am by trade.
And far from home I lay my head,
By the roadside my bed was made.

The wind did howl with a ghostly wrath,
While the hounds from hell approached.
Black as pitch with flaming eyes,
As the darkling clouds encroached

A lathered horse with frantic eyes,
His hooves made the thunder crack,
Came pounding out of the swirling clouds
With a rider dressed in black

When he turned my way my heart it froze.
With his hand he bade me near.
I could not refuse his beckoning,
Though my mind was numb with fear.

He grasped my hand and pulled me up,
To the back of his saddle I flew.
That night I rode with the wild, wild wind,
And the hoard of hunters grew.

We were made to ride with that dark, black God
To the end of the world and back.
To gather the souls of those who’d died,
And whose lives had shown a lack.

A lesson I learned on that dreadful trip,
‘Twill remain till my dying day.
For the rider, he told me of things to come,
As he knew I had lost my way.

We are given many chances in life,
To fulfill that for which we were meant.
To turn wrong into right and to make a stand,
Against all who have evil intent.

He bade me tell of his message this night,
To all who would listen and hear.
For we are all challenged to bear the truth,
Thought it’s cost is sometimes dear.

He brought me back to the side of the road,
While the hounds they bayed on high.
Where I stood in a daze till the skies had cleared,
And the morning sun was nigh.

Thus I bring you this warning so you shall know,
The price you will pay for haste.
And not guarding the things that we hold dear,
From the clutches of ravage and waste.