Theres a place close by everybody knows well
And the story fit, the ramblers do tell
In days of old the pheasant there
Was free on the ground and in the air

Powerful like the big broken tree
You can hear his call even today, heavenly
The bearded hunter sad, not brave, not wise
The blackest black is in his eyes
 His eyes

He talks big, in this area, I am the king
And I wonder what my hunt will bring
I’m involved in this story for the reason that
I ride I ride I ride beside
I ride I ride I ride beside
I ride I ride I ride beside
Beside