the hobs are climbing on the hill to seek the gold of fairy light into the holts they run and wait they dress in green they love their gold they talk to hornbeams in the cold the old forest is their shelter now i see them all into the light they re ready to go strength in hand they walk into the barrows they sing that old song hobs hobs an feathers hobs hobs an feathers the infiltrate through barrow lands with pegs and pickets they go on to thieve the treasures of the ghosts into the room there is a chest only dust where it rests inside no gold a bunch of feathers i have seen them go into the light they ve already gone feathers in hand they hold sad in the barrows they cry that old song hobs hobs an feathers hobs hobs an feathers they dress in green they love their gold they talk to hornbeams in the cold the old forest is their shelter 