Lankum, Grian Chatten - Hunting The Wren - The Immortal Man Version

Sharp is the wind Cold is the rain Harsh is the livelong day Upon the wide open plain By Donnelly's hollow Under sod, gorse, and furze There lies the young wren, oh By the saints, she was cursed The wren is a small bird How pretty she sings She bested the eagle When she hid in its wings With sticks and with stones All among the small mounds They come from all over To hunt the wren on the wide open ground There are birds of the earth And beasts of the field By spite and by fury Are people revealed Attacked in the village Spat on in town They come from all over To hunt the wren on the wide open ground The wren is a small bird Though blamed for much woe Her form is derided Wherever she goes With cold, want, and whiskey She soon is run down Her body paraded On a staff through the town A rag for her ceiling The sod was her floor She chose the cold open plain o'er The dark workhouse door With two broken wings And feathers so brown They come from all over To hunt the wren on the wide open ground