Interlude
[Whistles] She boils!
Mugs up. Come on, mugs up!
Cheers, yayyy
You know how it is up in the bush, when the rain clears at last.
And the mist goes smoking up from the hillside. And it’s quiet, and peaceful, and cool. And in the evening, the moon comes out, and the river sparkles along, just as if it was made of black velvet, threaded with silver!
Oh, sometimes on a night like that, I sit by my old lone fire, and gaze up at the mountains. And I seem to look right into the past, into a kind of fairy land. And I see up there, in the secret snow-grass basins, way up above the rest of the world, a fine big stag! The king of all the stags! And I’ll tell you something: his antlers are made of pure gold!
A noble stag stood dreaming,
Where lonely mountains rise,
The snow-bed streams were gleaming,
Beneath the autumn skies.
A hunter who came scheming,
This vision did behold,
A grand looking stag, a beautiful stag,
And his antlers were made of gold.
The hunter’s heart was singing,
He aimed his rifle true,
But kill this noble creature,
Was more than he could do,
The Maunakava mountain,
Faced off with guns as bold,
A proud looking stag, a beautiful stag,
And his antlers were made of gold.
Where lushly rose the snow-grass,
And flows the snow-fed stream,
The hunter’s heart goes roaming,
Each night in every dream,
He sees a vision splendid,
A secret never told,
A proud looking stag, a beautiful stag,
And his antlers are made of gold.
And his antlers are made of gold