Spin, spin, belle Mergaton!
The moon wheels full, and the tide flows high,
And your wedding-gown you must put it on
Ere the night hath no moon in the sky
Gigoton, Mergaton, spin!

Spin, spin, belle Mergaton!
Your gown shall be stitched ere the old moon fade:
The age of a moon shall your hands spin on,
Or a wife in her shroud shall be laid—
Gigoton, Mergaton, spin!

Spin, spin, belle Mergaton!
The Little Good Folk the spell they have cast;
By your work well done while the moon hath shone,
Ye shall cleave unto joy at last—
Gigoton, Mergaton, spin!

FLY AWAY, MY HEART
“O traveller, see where the red sparks rise,”
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
But dark is the mist in the traveller’s eyes.
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
“O traveller, see far down the gorge,
The crimson light from my father’s forge-”
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)

“O traveller, hear how the anvils ring”;
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
But the traveller heard, ah, never a thing:
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
“O traveller, loud do the bellows roar,
And my father waits by the smithy door-”
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)

“O traveller, see you thy true love’s grace,”
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
And now there is joy in the traveller’s face:
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)
Oh, wild does he ride through the rain and mire,
To greet his love by the smithy fire—
(Fly away, my heart, fly away)