I canna tell what has come ower me
That I am sae eerie and wae;
An auld-warld tale comes before me,
It haunts me by nicht and by day.

From the cool lift the gloamin' draps dimmer,
And the Rhine slips saftly by;
The taps of the mountains shimmer
I' the lowe o' the sunset sky.

Up there, in a glamor entrancin',
Sits a maiden wondrous fair;
Her gowden adornments are glancing,
She is kaimin' her gowden hair.

As she kaims it the gowd kaim glistens,
The while she is singin' a song
That hauds the rapt soul that listens,
With its melody sweet and strong.

The boy, floating by in vague wonder,
Is seized with a wild weird love;
He sees na the black rocks under, —
He sees but the vision above.

The waters their waves are flingin'
Ower boatie and boatman anon;
And this, with her airtful singin',
The Waterwitch Lurley hath done.