Marion Angus
Do you mind rinnin' barefit
In the saft, summer mist
Liltin' and linkin'on the steep hill heids?
In below your tartan shawl, your hand wad aye twist
Your bonnie green beads.
Do you mind traivellin', traivellin'
Ower and ower the braes,
Reistlin' the heather, and keekin' 'naith the weeds,
Seekin' and greetin' in the cauld weet days
For yer tint green beads.
Whist! Dinna rouse him,
The auld sleepin' man---
Steek the door; the mune-licht's on the lone hill heids---
Wee elfin craturs is delvin' in the sand,
They canna' miss the glimmer
O' yer auld green beads.
Here they come, the wee folk,
Speedin' fast and fleet---
There's a queer, low lauchin' on the grey hill heids---
An' the bricht drops, glancin', followin' at their feet---
It's green, green beads---
The last ye'll ever see o' yer bonnie green heads.