- Votes:
 - Genres:
 - Metal
 
- Tags:
 - british
 - folk metal
 - irish folk metal
 - skyclad
 
- See also:
 
Skyclad - Polkageist! lyrics
One day whilst out exploring in some
 far-flung foreign corner, I took respite
 from my journey to admire the local fauna.
 When from the twilight distance a peel of
 bells and laughter, set my heart-strings
 fluttering like bats through chapel rafters.
 On entering a clearing I did sense
 impending peril, beheld a Gypsy wench
 with flashing eyes bright, sharp and feral.
 She smiled at me so sweetly
 (bit a lip that smacked of danger),
 gave a look fit to disarm
 this poor, unwitting stranger.
 [Chorus]
 Her rhythm pounced upon me
 it trounced me in a trice.
 That charm she wove about me
 gripped me tight as any vice.
 (She spoke in tongues above me).
 Though I cast my eyes to Christ,
 you'd need the virtue of a saint
 to not succumb - overcome this
 Polkageist.
 Arms of ivory strummed perfection
 summond me toward the middle.
 Pan warmed up his pipes
 heard Herne a plucking at the fiddle.
 She wrapped herself about me
 (felt her hot breath at my ear);
 Danced a horizontal polka
 down the path to Hell I fear.
 We're on a path to Hell I fear!
 Skyclad - Polkageist! - http://motolyrics.com/skyclad/polkageist-lyrics.html
 [Chorus]
 Her rhythm pounced upon me
 it trounced me in a trice.
That charm she wove about me
 gripped me tight as any vice.
 (She spoke in tongues above me).
 Though I cast my eyes to Christ,
 you'd need the virtue of a saint
 to not succumb - overcome this
 Polkageist.
 The Horny Huntress:
 "A spirit sent to haunt you
 taunting all your earthly days.
 Satyrs vaunt
 cavorting to the reel Cernunnos plays.
 I head our wild procession
 (every beast from man to mouse),
 finds freedom in possession
 Polkageist is in the house!"
 Juice of fruit beyond forbidden
 dripping slowly from her fingers,
 she took my hand and led me
 to that place where cunning lingers.
 [Chorus]
 Her rhythm pounced upon me
 it trounced me in a trice.
 That charm she wove about me
 gripped me tight as any vice.
 (She spoke in tongues above me).
 Though I cast my eyes to Christ,
 you'd need the virtue of a saint
 to not succumb - overcome this
 Polkageist.















