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Into a nymph she quickly turned,

Ah, then his heart within him burned,
And vowed for her to fast:

Then built beside the lake a tower,

And there prayed for that sweet wild flower;
Till heaven she gained at last.

The Mountaineer

I.

Here’s to the mountaineer
No foeman does he fear,
His sheeling it is here
Upon the mountain;
While mends his wife the coats,
His daughters milk the goats,
And his “kids” float tiny boats
Upon the fountain.

 

II.

Then take their daily flight

To some impending height;

Or among the flowers delight |
In beds of lichen;

Or from the mountain rill,

Pull cresses there until,

Their little bibs they fill,
To aid the kitchen.

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Se Se Pape es

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For riches they don’t care,

They’ve plenty and to spare,

And no Sassenach would dare
Their home to trouble.

——————
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