Young man came from hunting faint and weary,
What doth ail my lord my deary?
Oh Mother dear let my bed be made,
For I feel the gripe of the woody nightshade
Lie low sweet Randel,
Now all you young men that do eat full well
And they that sup right merry
`Tis far better I entreat to have toads for your meat
Than to eat of the wild wild berry
Now this young lord he died ere soon,
By the light of the hunters moon,
`Twas not by bolt, nor yet by blade
But the deathly gripe of the woody nightshade
Lie low sweet Randel,
Now all you young men that do eat full well
And they that sup right merry
`Tis far better I entreat to have toads for your meat
Than to eat of the wild wild berry
This lordships wench they hanged her high,
For she was the cause of the lord to die
And in her hair entwined a braid
Of the leaves and berries of the woody nightshade
Lie low sweet Randel,
Now all you young men that do eat full well
And they that sup right merry
`Tis far better I entreat to have toads for your meat
Than to eat of the wild wild berry
Lie low sweet Randel
Beeindruckend dargeboten von Andrew King auf “The Amfortas Wound”.
