XXIX.
The Witches Song.
Lets have a dance upon this heath,
We gaine more life by Duncans death.
Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,
Having no musicke but our mew;
While we dance in some old mill,
About the hopper stone, or wheele,
To some old saier bardy shrine,
Whilst the mill clacke it doth keepe time.
We gaine more life by Duncans death.
Sometimes like brinded cats we shew,
Having no musicke but our mew;
While we dance in some old mill,
About the hopper stone, or wheele,
To some old saier bardy shrine,
Whilst the mill clacke it doth keepe time.
Sometimes about a hollow tree,
Around, around, around dance we;
Wher the chirping crickets come,
And beetles sing with drousie hum.
Then dance we over feme and furs,
To houles of wolves, and barks of curs:
And when with none of these we meet,
We dance to the ecchos of our feet.
Around, around, around dance we;
Wher the chirping crickets come,
And beetles sing with drousie hum.
Then dance we over feme and furs,
To houles of wolves, and barks of curs:
And when with none of these we meet,
We dance to the ecchos of our feet.
At the night-ravens screeching voice,
When others tremble, we reioice;
And nimbly, nimbly, trip we still,
To the echo of a hollow hill.
When others tremble, we reioice;
And nimbly, nimbly, trip we still,
To the echo of a hollow hill.