The Hoodie Craw

The Hoodie Craw has a black, black heart He's the vilest of the craws He's a greedy hawk, and an evil scavenger thief wherever he goes For he picks at the heart and pecks at the corpse And drinks o' the blood of his prey It's a grey ill wind in the world o' birds When the Hoodie blaws their way

The sick will fear him hover near For he smells their failing breath Where the feeble lie, he'll wait nearby And attend them at their death He'll worry the weak wi' a jab o' his beak He'll frighten young and old And the wind that blaws the Hoodie in Has a cheerless bitter cold

In the open sky his piercing eye Will search the grounds below And the threshing sound of his beating wings His victims soon will know No clamor calls nor helpless cries Distract him from his task And the whistling wind that sends them in Has an icy chilly blast

The Eagle guards his eyrie Safe high up in the hills And the fearless Robin Braves the cold and damp wet winter chills But Craws gang up and hound their prey And send them to their grave And the prize they crave is the fat and the juice And the blood of the Ravens Craig

The skin is stripped the bones are picked The carcass dead and gone And the cries that echo round the skies Are quiet and forlorn The rain falls down to heal the scars And wash them in it's flood And the Hoodie rides on another wind In search of other blood And the Hoodie rides on another wind In search of other blood Ravens Craig no more Ravens Craig no more