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<song>
From my father’s hold with iron cold
From my father’s hold with iron cold
I swore I’d not return
I swore I’d not return
‘Til I’d felt the breath and seen the death
‘Til I’d felt the breath and seen the death
Of the beast of Volgadurn
Of the beast of Volgadurn


Though furs I lacked, its spoor I tracked
Though furs I lacked, its spoor I tracked
Through snowfields cold and stern
Through snowfields cold and stern
To the child it took by the blood-stained brook
To the child it took by the blood-stained brook
Oh, the beast of Volgadurn
Oh, the beast of Volgadurn


‘Twas the high-woods trail that I tried to scale
‘Twas the high-woods trail that I tried to scale
Where first it sought to turn
Where first it sought to turn
In my pursuit I stopped to shoot
In my pursuit I stopped to shoot
At the beast of Volgadurn
At the beast of Volgadurn


The arrow flew, the shot was true
The arrow flew, the shot was true
Hot blood fell like to burn
Hot blood fell like to burn
It whined and fled, and crimson bled
It whined and fled, and crimson bled
Straight back to Volgadurn
Straight back to Volgadurn


To my father’s hold with iron cold
To my father’s hold with iron cold
I rushed with grave concern
I rushed with grave concern
I found him dead from my arrow-head
I found him dead from my arrow-head
The Beast of Volgadurn
The Beast of Volgadurn


When Winter’s chills come scour these hills
When Winter’s chills come scour these hills
My blood begins to churn
My blood begins to churn
For my fur is won, my father’s son
For my fur is won, my father’s son
Is the Beast of Volgadurn…
Is the Beast of Volgadurn…
</song>


[[Category:Varushka Music]]
[[Category:Varushka Music]]
[[Category:Music]]
[[Category:Music]]
[[Category:Varushka]]
[[Category:Varushka]]

Latest revision as of 10:13, 24 July 2012

By Chris Edwards


From my father’s hold with iron cold I swore I’d not return ‘Til I’d felt the breath and seen the death Of the beast of Volgadurn

Though furs I lacked, its spoor I tracked Through snowfields cold and stern To the child it took by the blood-stained brook Oh, the beast of Volgadurn

‘Twas the high-woods trail that I tried to scale Where first it sought to turn In my pursuit I stopped to shoot At the beast of Volgadurn

The arrow flew, the shot was true Hot blood fell like to burn It whined and fled, and crimson bled Straight back to Volgadurn

To my father’s hold with iron cold I rushed with grave concern I found him dead from my arrow-head The Beast of Volgadurn

When Winter’s chills come scour these hills My blood begins to churn For my fur is won, my father’s son Is the Beast of Volgadurn…