Lyrics:
move and sway
When the wandering music dies
They hear him feebly say
"Oh huntsman, Rody, blow the horn
Make the hills reply
I cannot blow upon my
who blow the huntsman's horn and by the look of this one
You've not got much to fear
Here I am, I'm very fierce and frightening
I come to match my
who blow the huntsman's horn and by the look of this one
You've not got much to fear
Here I am, I'm very fierce and frightening
I come to match my
hear him feebly say,
‘Huntsman Rody blow the horn
Make the hills reply.’
‘I cannot blow upon my horn
I can but weep and sigh.’
One blind hound lies
One night wandering lost and lonely through the Windsor woodland parks
I heard the spectral huntsman's horn, the drum of hooves the hounds that bark
Rody, blow the horn,
Make the hills reply.'
The huntsman loosens on the morn
A gay wandering cry.
Fire is in the old man's eyes,
His fingers move
streams.
Chorus:
'Huntsman, blow the horn,
Come make the hills reply.
Loosen on the morn
A gay wandering cry.
Rody, blow your horn.
Come make the hills
his wife in the middle of the night,
And he called for his huntsmen three.
Now every huntsman had a fine horn,
And very fine horn had he,
Wake up in
as night-shade
Claws and horns and wings
Fangs sharp as a blade
Your worst nightmare is becoming true
The beast is coming for you
Beware little huntsman, pray
(Repeat)
Follow, follow the musical horn,
Sing follow, hark, forward the innocent hare.
All along the green turf she pants for breath
Our huntsman he
offered fourth a choice reward To hunt the Greenwood's fare
cnd the Huntsman cry tally ho
In the Greenwood bare, where the leaves are gold
You have one
John Barleycorn, throw him up, throw him up!
Now the huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend his pots
and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly
the strongest man at last
And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend his pots without John Barleycorn
John Barleycorn, throw him up, throw him up!
Now the huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend his pots
at last.
The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot,
Without a little Barleycorn
The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pots,
Without a little Barleycorn
at last.
The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot,
Without a little Barleycorn
bone proved
The strongest man at last
Now the huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Or loudly blow his horn
And the tinker can't mend his cobble or his horn
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the strongest man at last.
The huntsman cannot hunt the fox
Nor loudly blow his horn
And the tinker cannot
bowl
Proved the stronger man at last
And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox
Or proudly blow his horn
And the tinker can't mend his kettles or his
her, a huntsman disappears in the wood one hears him blowing his horn and sees Iolanthe waiting among the trees for her horse
Beside herself Do her
I'll make the huntsman hunt the fox
With never a hound or horn.
I'll bring the tinker into gaol
Says old John Barleycorn.
Oh barley wine is the choicest
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