Prompted by a pub in Leeds of the same name.  It is more intriguing not to know what they are.

 

One for vengeance, one for blood

Watching, waiting, ever still;

By a pulsing body stood,

Hooded, The Three Hulats.

 

Two for Death and two for Life

Dancing in between those scales;

Arbiters of Pain and Strife,

Grinning, The Three Hulats.

 

Three to row our very souls

Over waters, over dreams:

Burning in the heat of coals,

Richer, The Three Hulats.

 

From cradled in our birthing shawl

To buried in our resting pall

As crows they watch our rise and fall,

Hooded, grinning, richer all,

Then vanished. The Three Hulats