The Dancing Of The Lord Of Weir (Williamson Robin)

By Robin Williamson Robin Williamson: Chanter, bironne, chinese flute, jew's harp, bazooki, gong and vocal. In the third part of the year when men begin to gather fuel against the coming cold hear hoover ring hard on frosty ground begins our song for centuries we lived alone high on the moors herding the deer for milk and cheese for leather and horn humans came seldom nigh for we with our spells held them at bay and they with gifts of wine and grain did honour us returning at evening from the great mountains out red hoods ring with bells lightly we run until before our own green hill there we did stand she is stolen she is snatched away through watery meads straying our lovely daughter she of the wild eyes she of the wild hair snatched up to the saddle of the lord of Weir who has his castle high upon a crag a league away upon the horse of air at once we rode to where Weir's castle lifts like a crippled claw into the moon and taking form of minstrels brightly clad we paced upon white ponies to the gate and rang thereon "we come to sing unto my lord of Weir a merry song." into his sorry hall we stepped where was our daughter bound near his chair "come play a measure!" "sir at once we will!" and we began to sing and play to lightly dance in rings and faster turn no man within that hall could keep his seat but needs must dance and leap against his will this was the way we danced them to the door and sent them on their way into the world where they will leap amain till they think one kind thought for all I know they may be dancing still while we returned with our own into our hall and entering in made fast the grassy door.