Laszlo Thea stole a stallion
Stole him from the misty mountains
And they chased him and they caught him,
And in iron chains they bound him.
Word was sent to Ana Thea
That her brother was in prison
Bring me gold and six fine horses
I will buy my brother's freedom.
Judge, oh, judge, please spare my brother
I will give you gold and silver
I don't want your gold and silver
All I want are your sweet favors
Ana Thea, oh my sister
Are you mad with grief and sorrow?
He will rob you of your flower
And he'll hang me from the gallows
Ana Thea did not listen
Straight way to the judge went running
In his golden bed at midnight
There she heard the gallows groaning
Curses be that judge so cruel
Thirteen years may he lie bleeding
Thirteen doctors cannot cure him
Thirteen shelves of drugs can't heal him
Ana Thea, Ana Thea
Don't go out into the forest
There among the green pines standing
You will find your brother hanging
Recorded by Judy Collins in 1963. Apparently a Hungarian folk song collected by Bela Bartok, and translated by A.L. Lloyd. The tune is also attributed to Lydia Wood, unknown date.
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