Testo The Hunter Dunne

John Dunne was a hunter, he hunted wanted men If they'd a price upon their head John Dunne went after them He took the posters at their word when they said alive or dead Nobody tries escaping with a bullet in their head And when he died, he died alone, the way he'd spent his years No bells were rung, no songs were sung, nobody shed a tear No keening and no flowers, no hearse to bring him home John Dunne was a hunter and John Dunne died alone John Dunne made his living fighting other people's wars He neither knew nor cared what causes he was fighting for Whoever paid his wages bought his loyalty and mind When John Dunne went to work he left his heart and soul behind And when he died, he died alone, in some god-forsaken hole No funeral oration, just curses on his soul Supper for the scavengers was how he met his end John Dunne was a mercenary and he died without a friend John Dunne he sold armaments, to anyone who'd buy The deal was cash, no questions asked, no how or who or why No mercy for the living, no conscience for the dead Good or bad or right or wrong never entered John Dunne's head And when he died, he died alone, no loved ones by his side No elegies, no broken hearts, laments or sad goodbyes No fond words of remembrance, not even kindly lies No-one even noticed it the day that John Dunne died