For the horse at the stream-black is the water-that flows like a dream-the horse she is thirsty-the water black as ink-the horse she is thirsty-but refuse to drink-what's wrong with the water-what's wrong with the horse?

For the horse starts to weep
Its hooves they are wounded
Its mane is of ice
A dagger of silver
Has pierced its great eye.
They go down to the river,
Oh, how they go down!
The water flows deeply
But in blood they can drown.
For the horse starts to weep.
The horse surely dies
It cries out to the mountains
It cries out to the marsh
Cries out to the river
In a voice loud and harsh
Cry for the horsey
That can't bear to drink
Cry for the river
With water black as ink.