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I rode a white horse over Uffington Hill |
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And the moon lit the valley below |
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Wolves ran ahead of me, scenting the prey |
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I followed their tracks through the snow |
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The circle of seasons was turning again |
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Winter would soon lose its hold |
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The moonlight appeals to me, snow has its charms |
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My kind do not feel the cold |
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I rode a white horse over Uffington Hill |
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And the sun was still gilding the land |
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Snowlight was bleeding across from the sea |
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I met it with fire in my hand |
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The circle of seasons was turning again |
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For all that the spring had come late |
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The quickening air held a promise and more |
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But my kind are willing to wait |
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I rode a white horse over Uffington Hill |
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And the valley was festival-dressed |
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Afternoon meadows all rich with their fruit |
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Regaled me with their best |
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Queen Summer had stepped from her throne |
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As the circle of seasons was spinning once more |
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Everything changes, everything dies, |
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But my kind go on as before |
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I rode a white horse over Uffington Hill |
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And seemed like a wraith in the mist |
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Frost cracking underfoot, everything shone |
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Like the eyes of the bird on my wrist |
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I let fly the falcon to summon the cold |
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Wolves came to run by my side |
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And the circle of seasons does just as it ought, |
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My kind continue to ride |
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Continue to ride |
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Continue to ride |
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O-oh |
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Continue to ride |
