Under raw bark
Of the wood clan
Lies a sprite spark
From her pearl hand
Forlorn brook feigns
Of her glad song,
For her fair face,
Draws the waves wrong
Green gown of the
Curved bluffs in the
Breeze blow like her
Silk ruffs flutter
Rays warm like her
Feet fall and the
Aged cairn calls to,
"Fetch the maid's love,
fetch the maid's love"