Lyrics - Helm Wind

As I stood there the sky dropped black,
The rain came down on the sodden peat,
The mist came down with the hail and wind,
Beware of the ground beneath your feet...

Beware of the rider of Fiends Fell,
The eight legged horse that Woden rides,
Beware of the knight with the cloudy helm,
Who rides the wind and takes no sides...

The sky is black, the wild hunt's on,
Look to your soul, look to your sins,
The sky is black the Helm is on,
Beware of the gathering of the winds...

From the smokey Tees and the coaley Tyne,
From the rustling breeze in the Kielder pine,
From the rushing air on the Whinny Sill,
From the biting wind on the Cleveland Hill,
From the wind in the stones of the Roman Wall,
From the Dogger Bank and the North Sea squall,
Look to your soul, look to your sins,
Beware of the gathering of the winds...

Heed the warning of the cloudy skies,
The shrieking wind where the anvil lies,
The baying hounds on the restless air,
The eight legged beast whose nostrils flare,
The wind that laid an army low,
That uproots trees in a single blow,
Timeless wind of timeless age,
Turns the placid pool to boiling rage,
The cows sit down as the eddies race,
The farmer with the gritstone face,
Puts shutters on his windowsills,
Frowns at the cloudy pennine hills...

He grits his teeth, his smile is gone,
He frowns and points 'the Helm is on!'