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There is a light in the forest |
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There is a face in the tree |
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I'll pull you out of the chorus |
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And the first one's always free |
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You can never go a-hunting |
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With just a flintlock and a hound |
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You won't go home with a bunting |
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If you blow a hundred round |
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It takes much more than wild courage |
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Or you'll hit the tattered clouds |
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You must have just the right bullets |
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And the first one's always free |
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You must be careful in the forest |
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Broken glass and rusty nails |
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If you're to bring back something for us |
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I have bullets for sale |
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Why be a fool when you can chase away |
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Your blind and your gloom |
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I have blessed each one of these bullets |
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And they shine just like a spoon |
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To have sixty silver wishes |
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Is a small price to pay |
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They'll be your private little fishes |
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And they'll never swim away |
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I just want you to be happy |
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That's my only little wish |
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I'll fix your wagon and your musket |
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And the spoon will have it's dish |
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And I shudder at the thoughtof your |
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Poor empty hunter's pouch |
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So I'll keep the wind from your barrel |
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And bless the roof of your house |
