Lermontoff - The Legend of Heather Ale Lyrics

From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne
Was sweeter far then honey
Was stronger far than wine
They brewed it and they drank it
And lay in a blessed swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground
There rose a king in Scotland
A fell man to his foes
He smote the Picts in battle
He hunted them like rose
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead
There rose a king in Scotland
A fell man to his foes
He smote the Picts in battle
He hunted them like rose
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead
Summer came in the country
Red was the heather bell
But the manner of the brewing
Was none alive to tell
In graves that were like children's
On many a mountain head
The Brewsters of the Heather
Lay numbered with the dead
The king in the red moorland
Rode on a summer's day
And the bees hummed, and the curlews
Cried beside the way
The king rode, and was angry
Black was his brow and pale
To rule in a land of heather
And lack the Heather Ale
It fortuned that his vassals
Riding free on the heath
Came on a stone that was fallen
And vermin hid beneath
Rudely plucked from their hiding
Never a word they spoke
A son and his aged father
Last of the dwarfish folk
The king sat high on his charger
He looked on the little men
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
Looked at the king again
Down by the shore he had them
And there on the giddy brink
'I will give you life, ye vermin
For the secret of the drink
There stood the son and father
And they looked high and low
The heather was red around them
The sea rumbled below
And up and spoke the father
Shrill was his voice to hear
'I have a word in private
A word for the royal ear
Life is dear to the aged
And honour a little thing
I would gladly sell the secret
Quoth the Pict to the king
His voice was small as a sparrow's
And shrill and wonderful clear
'I would gladly sell my secret
Only my son I fear
For life is a little matter
And death is nought to the young
And I dare not sell my honour
Under the eye of my son
Take him, O king, and bind him
And cast him far in the deep
And it's I will tell the secret
That I have sworn to keep
They took the son and bound him
Neck and heels in a thong
And a lad took him and swung him
And flung him far and strong
And the sea swallowed his body
Like that of a child of ten
And there on the cliff stood the father
Last of the dwarfish men
'True was the word I told you
Only my son I feared
For I doubt the sapling courage
That goes without the beard
But now in vain is the torture
Fire shall never avail
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of Heather Ale'