Life on the Hortobagy Page #4

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Lsz/o' Fe//r stole a steed

From ofi' the black hillside

From ofi' the black mountain -

Caught he was in fetters chained.

A bowl 0f gold, judge, /'// give thee,

Pr/thee /et my brother free!

A bowl of go/dS no good to me

Let me share the night with thee.

Lsz/o' Fe//r, dearest brother,

Hear what said Judge H0rva't.' rather,

I should spend the night with he -

Then brother dear will you be free.

Anna Fe//r, sister bra vest;

D0 not thank him with your fa voura

Your maidenhead he '// ha ve from thee,

Yet send me t0 the gallows tree.

Coachman, six steeds straight away,

7'0 the prison gates, I sa y!

Lsz/o' Fe//r, /ump in fast

Sleep at home 0r breathe your last!

Coachman, straight away six steeds!

Ofi' t0 Judge Horvats we must speed!

He took from me my maidenhead,

Yet my brother hanged t/// he was dead/

Your washing water to blood be turned,

Your towel to fire, your skin be burned,

/'d see your bread to stone turned hard,

Your knife dart up and stab your heart!

The End

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