| Hunter: |
|
Sitting in this clump of rowans
I don't lie this wind
Which blows in my face
And nips my cheeks.
A stag lies up there
Looking at me reproachfully
And I can't move a step from here
Because of his disapproving eyes.
If only I could crawl
My gun and I
To that hollow rowan tree
I could shoot you. |
| Deer: |
|
It would be much better if you sowed and harrowed,
Tended your cattle and fed them,
Rather than take a steak of my old venison
Which is not worth putting in a pot
My skin is no good
Because of the warble holes;
It's a shame that you should stalk me
For I've done you no harm. |
| Hunter: |
|
Don't you remember the sorrel
Which you ate in the corn?
I'll set my dog on you
And you'll be killed on the spot. |
| Deer: |
|
If you'd only listen
I'd prove that it wasn't me
Who ate your corn
It was a much better stag. |
| Hunter: |
|
If you could tell me
Where I can find him
It would be a warning to others
Though I may still shoot you. |
| Deer: |
|
In the summer he's in Corraig Rock
On guard in Corry Maltaig;
But I don't suppose he'll come here
With the dogs so near. |
| Hunter: |
|
I would be very happy
If my rifle and I
Were out together
Searching the hills. |
