X.Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.Or this:—Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
X.Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.Or this:—Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
X.Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.Or this:—Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
X.Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.Or this:—Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
X.
Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.Or this:—Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
Early this year I had occasion to visit the well-known Hengwrt Library at Peniarth, and during my stay there Mr. Wynne very kindly took me to see such of the Ỻanegryn people as were most likely to have somewhat to say about the fairies. Many of the inhabitants had heard of them, but they had no long tales about them. One man, however, told me of a William Pritchard, of Pentre Bach, near Ỻwyngwryl, who died at sixty, over eighty years ago, and of a Rhys Williams, the clerk of Ỻangelynin, how they were going home late at night from a cock-fight at Ỻanegryn, and how they came across the fairies singing and dancing on a plot of ground known asGwastad Meirionyđ, ‘the Plain of Merioneth,’ on the way from Ỻwyngwryl to Ỻanegryn. It consists, I am told by Mr. Robert Roberts of Ỻanegryn, of no more than some twenty square yards, outside which one has a good view of Cardigan Bay and the heights of Merioneth and Carnarvonshire, while from the Gwastad itself neither sea nor mountain is visible. On this spot, then, the belated cockfighters were surrounded by the fairies. They swore at the fairies and took to their heels, but they were pursued as far as Clawđ Du. Also I was told that Elen Egryn, the authoress, some sixty years ago, of some poetry calledTelyn Egryn, had also seen fairies in her youth, when she used to go up the hills to lookafter her father’s sheep. This happened near a little brook, from which she could see the sea when the sun was in the act of sinking in it; then many fairies would come out dancing and singing, and also crossing and re-crossing the little brook. It was on the side of Rhiwfelen, and she thought the little folks came out of the brook somewhere. She had been scolded for talking about the fairies, but she firmly believed in them to the end of her life. This was told me by Mr. W. Williams, the tailor, who is about sixty years of age; and also by Mr. Rowlands, the ex-bailiff of Peniarth, who is about seventy-five. I was moreover much interested to discover at Ỻanegryn a scrap of kelpie story, which runs as follows, concerning Ỻyn Gwernen, situated close to the old road between Dolgeỻey and Ỻanegryn:—
As a man from the village of Ỻanegryn was returning in the dusk of the evening across the mountain from Dolgeỻey, he heard, when hard by Ỻyn Gwernen, a voice crying out from the water:—
Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!The hour is come but the man is not!
Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!
Daeth yr awr ond ni đaeth y dyn!
The hour is come but the man is not!
The hour is come but the man is not!
As the villager went on his way a little distance, what should meet him but a man of insane appearance, and with nothing on but his shirt. As he saw the man making full pelt for the waters of the lake, he rushed at him to prevent him from proceeding any further. But as to the sequel there is some doubt: one version makes the villager conduct the man back about a mile from the lake to a farm house called Dyffrydan, which was on the former’s way home. Others seem to think that the man in his shirt rushed irresistibly into the lake, and this I have no doubt comes nearer the end of the story in its original form. Lately I have heard a part of a similar story about Ỻyn Cynnwch, which has already been mentioned, p. 135, above. My informantis Miss Lucy Griffith, of Glynmalden, near Dolgeỻey, a lady deeply interested in Welsh folklore and Welsh antiquities generally. She obtained her information from a Dolgeỻey ostler, formerly engaged at the Ship Hotel, to the effect that on Gwyl Galan, ‘the eve of New Year’s Day,’ a person is seen walking backwards and forwards on the strand of Cynnwch Lake, crying out:—
Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!The hour is come while the man is not!
Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!
Mae’r awr wedi dyfod a’r dyn heb đyfod!
The hour is come while the man is not!
The hour is come while the man is not!
The ostler stated also that lights are to be seen on Cader Idris on the eve of New Year’s Day, whatever that statement may mean. The two lake stories seem to suggest that the Lake Spirit was entitled to a victim once a year, whether the sacrifice was regarded as the result of accident or design. By way of comparison, one may mention the notion, not yet extinct, that certain rivers in various parts of the kingdom regularly claim so many victims: for some instances at random see an article by Mr. J. M. Mackinlay, on Traces of River Worship in Scottish Folklore, a paper published in theProceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, 1895–6, pp. 69–76. Take for example the following rhyme:—
Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;But bonny DonShe needs none.
Blood-thirsty DeeEach year needs three;
Blood-thirsty Dee
Each year needs three;
But bonny DonShe needs none.
But bonny Don
She needs none.
Or this:—
Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speedAn’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
Tweed said to Till‘What gars ye rin sae still?’Till said to Tweed‘Though ye rin wi’ speed
Tweed said to Till
‘What gars ye rin sae still?’
Till said to Tweed
‘Though ye rin wi’ speed
An’ I rin slaw,Yet whar ye droon ae manI droon twa.’
An’ I rin slaw,
Yet whar ye droon ae man
I droon twa.’