the black adder - howard goodall lyrics
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the sound of hoof beats ‘cross the glade
good folk, lock up your son and daughter
beware, the deadly flashing blade
unless you want to end up shorter
black adder, black adder
he rides a pitch black steed
black adder, black adder
he’s very bad indeed
black, his gloves of finest mole
black, his codpiece made of metal
his horse is blacker than a vole
his pot is blacker than his kettle
black adder, black adder
with many*a cunning plan
black adder, black adder
you horrid little man
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