Out on the mountain over the town, <br /> All night long, all night long, <br />The trolls go up and the trolls go down, <br /> Bearing their packs and crooning a song; <br />And this is the song the hill-folk croon, <br />As they trudge in the light of the misty moon,-- <br />This is ever their dolorous tune: <br />"Gold, gold! ever more gold,-- <br /> Bright red gold for dearie!" <br /> <br />Deep in the hill the yeoman delves <br /> All night long, all night long; <br />None but the peering, furtive elves <br /> See his toil and hear his song; <br />Merrily ever the cavern rings <br />As merrily ever his pick he swings, <br />And merrily ever this song he sings: <br />"Gold, gold! ever more gold,-- <br /> Bright red gold for dearie!" <br /> <br />Mother is rocking thy lowly bed <br /> All night long, all night long, <br />Happy to smooth thy curly head <br /> And to hold thy hand and to sing her song; <br />'T is not of the hill-folk, dwarfed and old, <br />Nor the song of the yeoman, stanch and bold, <br />And the burden it beareth is not of gold; <br />But it's "Love, love!--nothing but love,-- <br /> Mother's love for dearie!"<br /><br />Eugene Field<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cornish-lullaby/
