As the yellow moon rises over the ancient Caledonian forests
There is at first no sound
But when the stars begin to burst through,
Leaving their glittering holes in the deepening sky
A sound, a note, a tune can be heard, rising in the west
Borne on the steady wind from Argyle, (?), Andrew, and Cork
Wood Nymphs and creatures of Celtic myth await
And move with this tune, less dancing to it, than enchanted by it
Soon the tune takes shape: a jig
And as the lark in the morning is heard
We are all invited to the dance...
There is at first no sound
But when the stars begin to burst through,
Leaving their glittering holes in the deepening sky
A sound, a note, a tune can be heard, rising in the west
Borne on the steady wind from Argyle, (?), Andrew, and Cork
Wood Nymphs and creatures of Celtic myth await
And move with this tune, less dancing to it, than enchanted by it
Soon the tune takes shape: a jig
And as the lark in the morning is heard
We are all invited to the dance...