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Deep, in the bowels of Annwn, where the womb of Samhain lies

Walked the Norman lady, wise. Looking for a kill

For her hunt was due to roam the skies

Bringing those who died

If there's no hunting in Heaven, I'd rather not go

Let no beast escape me

Let my hounds rip and tear

Calls the lady as she rides

Leads her hordes with hellish cry

Eyeing the wrong soul

Now a hag, Matilda rides the night

The Wild Hunt to serve

Come, Matilda of the Night

Come with your hounds in rapture

Come Matilda of the Night

Seek the souls that you delight

(Matilda of the Night)

If there's no hunting in Heaven, I'd rather not go