Folksong

- collected by Ludwig Uhland

A huntsman will a-hunting go,
He's starting from the throne of Heav'n.
What's this encounter'd on the way?
Mary the Virgin, 'tis indeed.
The huntsman whom I mean,
To us is known his fame.
With an angel goes he hunting;
Gabriel's his very name.
The angel blows his tiny horn,
Ev'ry note is well in place;
Greeting to thee, O Mary,
For thou art full of grace.

In they child, thy father's hid,
Thy mother and thy nurse are same,
The unicorn and now the kid,
Both of them hath she made tame.






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