| Lyrics: | From the working nights the village round the old church becomes scary town.
[All curtains?],
windows and bolted doors, but never a eye to see.
As us fairy folks [???] the hill, never
caught us and never will,
Pulling roses and daffodils. Mayhem in the high
degree.
The blacksmith chased us all to ground.
He searched all night; we were
never found.
The tinker boys of the sheriff's men shaking the tallest tree.
And we sat and
watched the women hide, laughed so much we split our sides,
Scattered horses that they would
find. Mayhem in the high degree
We crossed through fields and midnight green, often
heard but seldom seen,
Tore along hedges and the leaves. No one could quite agree
Whether
we came from north or south. We stole the streets from out their mouths
and go where no man
would allow. Mayhem in the high degree.
[???]
We ride the thin winds of the night
and set our spirits free
We terrify the [men enfold?], the fox is still far too bold
So we
strung him up [???] neatly folded. Mayhem, maybe |
