Down-Adown-Derry

Down-adown-derry,
    Sweet Annie Maroon,
Gathering daisies
    In the meadows of Doone,
Hears a shrill piping,
    Elflike and free,
Where the waters go brawling
    In rills to the sea;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
    Sweet Annie Maroon,
Through the green grasses
    Peeps softly; and soon
Spies under green willows
    A fairy whose song
Like the smallest of bubbles
    Floats bobbing along;
    Singing down-adown-derry.



Down-adown-derry,
    Her cheeks were like wine,
Her eyes in her wee face
    Like water-sparks shine,
Her niminy fingers
    Her sleek tresses preen,
The which in the combing
    She peeps out between;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
    Shrill, shrill was her tune: -
"Come to my water-house,
    Annie Maroon:
Come in your dimity,
    Ribbon on head,
To wear siller seaweed
    And coral instead";
    Singing down-adown-derry.

"Down-adown-derry,
    Lean fish of the sea,
Bring lanthorns for feasting
    The gay Faërie;
'Tis sand for the dancing,
    A music all sweet
In the water-green gloaming
    For thistledown feet";
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
    Sweet Annie Maroon
Looked large on the fairy
    Curled wan as the moon
And all the grey ripples
    To the Mill racing by,
With harps and with timbrels
    Did ringing reply;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

"Down-adown-derry,"
    Sang the Fairy of Doone,
Piercing the heart
    Of Sweet Annie Maroon;
And lo! when like roses
    The clouds of the sun
Faded at dusk, gone
    Was Annie Maroon;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
    The daisies are few;
Frost twinkles powdery
    In haunts of the dew;
And only the robin
    Perched on a thorn,
Can comfort the heart
    Of a father forlorn;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Down-adown-derry,
    There's snow in the air;
Ice where the lily
    Bloomed waxen and fair;
He may call o'er the water,
    Cry - cry through the Mill,
But Annie Maroon, alas!
    Answer ne'er will;
    Singing down-adown-derry.

Walter De La Mare

Walter De La Mare was an English poet, short story writer, and novelist, best remembered for his works for children and his poem "The Listeners". Born in 1873 in Charlton, Kent, De La Mare's unique blend of haunting, dreamlike imagery and masterful command of language earned him a lasting place in English literature. He was awarded the Order of Merit in 1953, and his works continue to be celebrated for their ethereal and evocative quality.

Walter De La Mare

Haunted

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

The Truants

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

The Silver Penny

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

The Song Of The Secret

Walter De La Mare, Simple Poetry

English

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The High Tide On The Coast Of Lincolnshire.

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Come, dear children, let us away;
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Surely she will come again!
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The wild white horses foam and fret."
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Fair Annie Of Rough Royal

'Ouvre ta port', Germin', c'est moi qu'est ton mari.'
'Donnez-moi des indic's de la première nuit,
    Et par là je croirai que vous et's mon mari.'

        --Germaine.


The Text is Fraser Tytler's, taken down from the recitation of Mrs. Brown in 1800, who had previously (1783) recited a similar version to Jamieson. The later recitation, which was used by Scott, with others, seems to contain certain improvisations of Mrs. Brown's which do not appear in the earlier form.

The Story.--A mother, who feigns to be her own son and demands tokens of the girl outside the gate, turns her son's love away, and is cursed by him. Similar ballads exist in France, Germany, and Greece.

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The Fairy Rade.

        I.

Ai me! why stood I on the bent
When Summer wept o'er dying June!
I saw the Fairy Folk ride faint
    Aneath the moon.


        II.

The haw-trees hedged the russet lea
Where cuckoo-buds waxed rich with gold;
The wealthy corn rose yellowly
    Endlong the wold.


        III.

Betwixt the haw-trees and the mead
"The Fairy Rade" came glimmering on;
A creamy cavalcade did speed
    O'er the green lawn.


        IV.

The night was ringing with their reins;
Loud laughed they till the cricket hushed;
The whistles on their coursers' manes
    Shrill music gushed.


        V.

The whistles tagged their horses' manes
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