Corby
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Bright shining eyes
Where the raven flies
When parts the mist
All winter-kissed
A son or daughter dies!
Round spins the pretty lass, pretty lass, pretty lass!
Long about the Winter-Mass, Winter-Mass, Winter-Mass!
Her song it calls the Corby Man, Corby Man, Corby Man!
And dancing fine he takes her hand, takes her hand, takes her hand!
Kissing brow he does not say, does not say, does not say!
When seek her kin she's gone away, gone away, gone away!
To Mistyholt behind the sky, behind the sky, behind the sky!
To sweetly dance and never die, never die, never die!
Raven's beauties laugh and sing, laugh and sing, laugh and sing!
But ne'er beyond the tower's ring, tower's ring, tower's ring!
Once the mists have grayed the day, grayed the day, grayed the day!
Little lass is borne away, borne away, borne away!
Everyone knows in the olden days, a prince or princess had to be careful. If you were too haughty or too witty or too lovely, you might be stolen away on a misty winter's night to come to the Court of the Raven King, to dance among the snow-clad roses and feast of the tables of the Mistlands.
