This is about the Wild Hunt, an old European legend. Look it up if you're
interested.

The Wild Hunt

Shadows dance between the trees,
Woods are darks and cold and deep.
Laughter rides upon the breeze,
Whatever meets them, they will keep.

They have rode the ancient winds,
All unchanging, stilling breath.
Hunters chained there by their sins,
Never granted gift of death.

Some embrace it, knowing naught,
Following the baying hounds.
Those that linger, spy, are caught,
Forced to keep the endless rounds.

Him they follow, first of all.
He who was the first to Ride.
Sending out the ancient call,
Immortal, but he cannot bide.

Chained there by their own fierce fate,
They will seek the sinful out.
They will find all those that hate,
They will win the final bout.

They are wild, free of bonds.
They know naught of rules or laws.
They are the whisper in the dark,
Hunters always, without cause.