“In the third part of the year
When men begin to gather fuel
Against the coming cold
Here hooves run 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
Our red hoods rang with bells.
Lightly we ran
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 looks 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.

from "The Dancing of the Lord of Weir”