Under the Hill
Now while the sky is apple green
And the wind is still and the moon is ripe,
Come to the hollow under the hill
While the night is young and the evening thrills
To the thump of drums and the strum of strings
And the shrill cry of the pipe.
A girl and a goat are dancing there
In the hollow under the hill.
The goat is black and the girl is fair,
But his eyes are gold as her flying hair,
With the thump of drums and the strum of strings
And the shrill cry of the pipe.
His eyes are yellow and patient and wise
As a snake is patient, a sage is wise,
But the golden girl has demon’s eyes
To the thump of drums and strum of strings
And the shrill cry of the pipe.
