As I rode out one morning all on All Hallows' Eve
I chanced to meet with the Horned One and I asked of him his leave
His hooves were of the kettle iron, his horns sprang like the bow
And I was caught up in his pack with the Wild Hunt for to go

We rode and raged through the autumn glade where the earth grew cold and chill
And everywhere his Wild Hunt rode he worked his icy will
We rode through village, field and town and shutters drew in fear
For before us rode the Horned Man, our winter King so dear.

And then at last by starlight we came to that wild glade
Where we trod the ancient circle and the winter spell was laid
And there I saw my father, ten years and seven dead
And he did bear the icy spear and wore horns upon his head

But all things come unto an end, so from that place I passed
And when to Annfwyn I do go I'll ride with him at last
The Horned Man will bless us all as sure as you were born
So raise your cup and sup it up, all hail to Hoof and Horn!