Hound of the Baskervilles
Lyrics by Jane Mailander, music by Brenda Sutton
Jane Mailander is one of the most unique writers I know; a keen, brilliant mind; a slice - n - dice wit; and a talent for telling and re-telling stories. She and I collaborated successfully for a few brief years, and then I had to go and fall in love with a man from Georgia.
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Hugo the rake, dark and wild as a storm,
Chased a maiden out into the night.
The cry on the moor, as if straight from Hell's door,
Would not turn him away from his flight.
His drunken companions who followed, there found
What thickened their blood with cold dread:
The form of an ebony, flaming-eyed hound,
Hugo's throat -- and it's jaws -- dripping red.
The Hell-Hound is calling for Baskerville blood,
As it's called all the ages before;
If you value your life and your reason, my friend,
In God's name, keep away from the moor!
Sir Charles was loved by the sick and the poor,
And gave freely to people in need,
But his old heart grew faint when he thought of the moor,
And the creature who waited to feed.
On night in an alley near Baskerville Hall
Came the cry and the charge of the Hound --
And Sir Charles ran mad 'til his heart broke, and all
Of his works were flung dead to the ground.
Sir Henry is handsome, well-traveled, and young,
And he laughs at old stories and fears.
But he's followed, a rock through his window is flung,
And an old boot of his disappears.
He's come to reclaim his old family home,
But the noise I hear chills me with fright:
It's the cry of the Hound -- and Sir Henry's alone
Walking out on the moor late tonight.