Читать книгу Elves and Heroes - Donald Alexander Mackenzie - Страница 3

O, the good-wife will be singing

  When her meal is all but done—

Now all my bannocks have I baked,

  I've baked them all but one;

And I'll dust the board to bake it,

  I'll bake it with a spell—

O, it's Finlay's little bannock

  For going to the well.

The bannock on the brander

  Smells sweet for your desire—

O my crisp ones I will count not

  On two sides of the fire;

And not a farl has fallen

  Some evil to foretell!—

O it's Finlay's little bannock

  For going to the well.

The bread would not be lasting,

  'Twould crumble in your hand;

When fairies would be coming here

  To turn the meal to sand—

But what will keep them dancing

  In their own green dell?

O it's Finlay's little bannock

  For going to the well.

Now, not a fairy finger

  Will do my baking harm—

The little bannock with the hole,

  O it will be the charm.

I knead it, I knead it, 'twixt my palms,

  And all the bairns I tell—

O it's Finlay's little bannock

  For going to the well.