Running Wild - Black Hand Inn

A scarred and rakish seadog, mysterious opacity Walks the grove, the phantom’s home Cuts down firs where men would flee Wooden beams and mortar, the timber shack is taking shape The tavern’s baptized “Black Hand Inn“ A blackened hand shines on the plate Welcome to the tavern in the grove Where ancient spirits live and rove The tavern has been opened, the owner is Mr. John Xenir A rumour says he has second sight A chance to prove restrains their fear Night by night revealing, stares into his crystal-ball Telling tales of past and future When man was made and man will fall Welcome to the tavern in the grove Where ancient spirits live and rove The moon is rising high foreboding what the night will bring The crystal-ball reveals the hidden truth at the “Black Hand Inn“ The priest is getting furious from the “godless“ tales he told Steps right in, made a cross Condemns the