Out in the street on a chill midnight
The villagers heard a shriek of fright,
Begging for help from the pitiless sky---

All heads turn when the Hunt goes by.

They knew who it was--good Parson Brown,
A man well-loved by the whole town;
Yet no one stirred or breathed a sigh---

All heads turn when the Hunt goes by.

The pounding hooves went thundering past
And the villagers shuddered, hearing the last
Scream of their Parson, shrill and high---

All heads turn when the Hunt goes by.

Now the silence hangs foul in the dark dead night
As the villagers tremble and pray for light
While the Count and his kin hunt till morning is nigh---

All heads turn when the Hunt goes by!