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| WEIRD 1 wife of Bein-y-Vreich! horo! horo! | |
| Aloft in the mist she dwells; | |
| Vreich horo! Vreich horo! Vreich horo! | |
| All alone by the lofty wells. | |
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| Weird, weird wife! with the long gray locks, | 5 |
| She follows her fleet-foot stags, | |
| Noisily moving through splinter’d rocks, | |
| And crashing the grisly crags. | |
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| Tall wife, with the long gray hose! in haste | |
| The rough stony beach she walks; | 10 |
| But dulse or seaweed she will not taste, | |
| Nor yet the greetn kail stalks. | |
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| And I will not let my herds of deer, | |
| My bonny red deer go down; | |
| I will not let them down to the shore, | 15 |
| To feed on the sea-shells brown. | |
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| Oh, better they love in the corrie’s recess, | |
| Or on mountain top to dwell, | |
| And feed by my side on the green, green cress, | |
| That grows by the lofty well. | 20 |
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| Broad Bein-y-Vreich is grisly and drear, | |
| But wherever my feet have been | |
| The well-springs start for my darling deer, | |
| And the grass grown tender and green. | |
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| And there high up on the calm nights clear, | 25 |
| Beside the lofty spring, | |
| They come to my call, and I milk them there, | |
| And a weird wild song I sing. | |
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| But when hunter men round my dun deer prowl, | |
| I will not let them nigh; | 30 |
| Through the rended cloud I cast one scowl, | |
| They faint on the heath and die. | |
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| And when the north wind o’er the desert bare | |
| Drives loud, to the corries below | |
| I drive my herds down, and bield them there | 35 |
| From the drifts of the blinding snow. | |
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| Then I mount the blast, and we ride full fast, | |
| And laugh as we stride the storm, | |
| I, and the witch of the Cruachan Ben, | |
| And the scowling-eyed Seul-Gorm. | 40 |
