When the Fire Is Dead in the Grate

When the fire is dead in the grate Rake the ashes over Frozen closed, the black house gate The rain is coming on The storm cried hark to the tomb I was safe inside this room But when I was asleep: footprints in the ash One set were cloven hooves, the other set yours A white charm was bound around my neck As I stepped out I swear it turned coal black So I followed those tracks down to the sea There you lay asleep all covered in reeds Rise, rise In the waxing light You must take my place Run for home With your holly stave Gathering the fallen alder and yew When the fire... When the fire is dead in the grate Rake the ashes over Frozen closed, the black house gate The rain is coming on