The Ballad of Red Riding Hood

Deep inside the forest,
Along the Appalachian Ridge,
High above Rob Shuman's farm;
And past the Parker's Bridge;
They say you'll find a cabin
Where a hermit woman lives.

They say that once upon a time,
Not so long ago,
She lived alone with just her Ma,
In a house in Nell's Hollow;
And wore a fancy riding hood,
As soft and white as snow.

She was a small and lively girl
And a very pretty child
With a little dimple in her cheek
That showed each time she smiled
She even had her dead Pa's eyes
That glittered grey and wild

Her Grannie lived up in the hills,
In a cabin in the wood.
The girl often came to see her,
Dressed in her white riding hood,
To bring her Grannie cakes and tea,
When her health was not so good.

For each full moon her Grannie
Went outside at night;
Stood out in the dark and cold,
Her grey eyes glowing bright;
She changed from a woman to a wolf,
And roamed until first light.

And so the girl was sent to help her
Until the moon's demise,
Serving her exhausted Grannie,
When she was too tired to rise,
For the girl was never frightened of her
In either wolf or woman's guise.

It was a cool September day
The sky a hazy bland;
Dressed in her white riding hood,
With a basket in her hand,
The girl set out for Grannie's house
Across the hilly land.

She hiked into the mountains,
With the sun upon her hair;
Skipping over rocks and stones,
And breathing summer air;
But when she reached her Grannie's house
She stopped in her tracks to stare.

Hawks hovered high above it,
And blood ran beneath the door;
Inside there stood a huntsman,
Looking down upon the gore;
A fur-clad huntsman gazing,
At the corpse upon the floor.

It was the body of an old wolf;
Lean and and pearly grey;
The girl gave out a small shriek,
And stared on in dismay,
For it was her own dear Grannie
Who on the cobbles lay.

She fell beside the body,
And began to cry:
"Why'd you kill my Grannie?
She never hurt a fly!
What'd she do to merit death?
Answer, stranger! Why?"

He said "I am a hunter,
And slaughter's what I do.
Long ago I killed your Pa,
And now your Grannie, too,
And when at last you come of age
I will hunt for you.

"Your Ma may not have told you,
But I can see it in your wild eyes;
Your blood betrays your secret
With a trait you can't disguise;
Yes, soon you too will prowl
Beneath cold and moonlit skies."

The girl stared on in horror,
As he stripped her Grannie's skin,
Severed her gray, noble head,
And carried them off with him;
She watched him go in silence,
But burned with rage within.

So she took her Grannie's rifle,
And filled it up with lead;
She raced after that huntsman,
And shot him through the head;
Oh, she took her Grannie's rifle,
And shot the huntsman dead.

She stole her Grannie's head and hide,
And left the hunter in the wood;
Took his prize to Grannie's house,
And buried her as best she could,
Then headed home, in bloody clothes,
And her blood-red riding hood.

And when she got back home again,
She hugged her ma and cried:
"I fin'ly understand, Ma,
Just how my Daddy died;
And now I've shot the huntsman,
Who took poor Grannie's hide."

She closed her eyes and swallowed,
Spoke the words she feared to say:
"How long do I have, Ma,
'Till the full moon has its way?"
"My dear, you only have until,
Your very next birthday."

So on her fourteenth birthday
Just as the first snow fell
The girl packed her belongings
And kissed her Ma farewell
She was a lonely little figure
With a sorry tale to tell

She moved into her Grannie's cabin,
And they say she lives there still;
And on the night of a full moon,
She roams the shadowed hill,
Hunting now with teeth and claw,
She stalks her frightened kill.

Prowling in her wolf-skin,
She climbs the mountains high;
Howling to the white moon,
Her head raised to the sky;
Screaming to the bright moon,
Until her tears run dry.