The sky is red as are the trees,
standing tall and all around
Whose ochre leaves stir in the breeze,
in the wood just out of town.

I see the sun is sinking low,
and soon I must be home,
for beneath the darkened bough
No man may safely roam.

The autumn wood is full of fear,
To those who know it not,
They fear the wolf, they fear the bear,
And wonder why I do not.

I am undaunted by the bear,
For in his cave he sleeps.
When baleful howls cut through the air,
Silently away I creep.

For fear of something you don’t know
Can leave you truly dead,
So from autumn wood with hunter’s bow,
I draw my daily bread.

When winter’s wind is in their bones,
They’ll eat what I have brought them,
What I caught in here in the woods,
Of the waning autumn.