The moorland witch, Op.28 no.3 (Eduard Hecht)
- Editor: James Gibb (submitted 2020-07-06). Score information: A4, 10 pages, 150 kB Copyright: CPDL
- Edition notes: Includes a keyboard reduction of the a cappella choral score.
Original text and translations
There lives a lass on yonder moor,
She wears a gown of green;
She's handsome, young, and sprightly,
With a pair of roguish e'en:
She's graceful as the mountain doe,
That snuffs the forest air:
And she brings the smell of the heather-bell
In the tresses of her hair.
'Twas roaming careless o'er the hills,
As sunlight left the sky,
That first I met this moorland maiden
Bringing home her kye:
Her native grace, her lovely face,
The pride of art outshone,
I wondered that so sweet a flower
Should blossom thus alone.
Alas, that ever I should meet
Those beaming eyes of blue,
That round about my thoughtless heart
Their strong enchantment threw.
I could not dream that falsehood lurked
In such an angel smile;
I could not fly the fate that lured
With such a lovely wile.
And when she comes into the vale,
To try her beauty's power,
She'll leave a spell on many a heart,
That fluttered free before.
But oh, beware her witching smile,
'Tis but a fowler's snare;
She's fickle as the mountain wind
That frolics with her hair!
She's fickle, oh, beware!