Fancy up Berwick

I take flight:

Green field of white mounds

To marry on the hillside

For me to take wife

Would climate permit?

Would Christian curses cross it?

Nae, the Fair Folk

Care not a bit

And I’ll be gay

And dance in merriment

Woodstock or Winterdaze

Let music flow

Over Tara

When I marry the Fae, aye

When I look in her eye