The hobs are climbing on the hill
To seek the gold of fairy light Into the holts they run and wait
They dress in green, they love their gold
They talk to hornbeams in the cold
The old forest is their shelter (Bridge:)
Strength in hand they walk
Now I see them all
Into the light they're ready to go
Into the barrows, they sing that old song
Hobs ( Hobs With pegs and pickets they go on
The infiltrate through barrow lands
To thieve the treasures of the ghosts :into the room there is a chest
Only dust where it rests
Inside no gold: a bunch of feathers
I have seen them go (Bridge2:)
Into the light, they've already gone
Feathers in hand they hold
Sad in the barrows, they cry that old song Hobs Hobs (
They talk to hornbeams in the cold
They dress in green, they love their gold
The old forest is their shelter (Bridge2:) (Chorus (x2)).
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