The Devil's Huntsman

He rode home from St Just In drink taken Passing the standing stones Silently past him there flows a pack of hounds Jet black hounds Hard on their heels is a dark rider As black as the pit of hell He calls "Hold on What sport is this? Give me some of your game" "Take that " was the cold reply Something was tossed to him as the Rider passed by He caught the bundle Too dark to see Rode home to St. Just Calls for a light Peers at the bundle It is a baby HIS OWN! DEAD AND COLD