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Hee-o, wee-o, hear the wild bees hummin', See the blackcock by the burnie drummin', Wattle-weaving sit we snug and couthie, Hee-o, wee-o, birdling in our boothie! Hush thee, my baby O! dark is the night Cuddle by kiln-ring where fire burns bright. Trampling our turf-roof wild cattle we hear Cave-folk in winter have nothing to fear.

Crows called as they hurried over; the little sandpiper's "ah weet! weet! weet!" came up from the river bank, but in the woods all was silent. Still we went on, climbing the steep hills, loitering through the valleys, till suddenly a bird note broke the stillness, quite near us, a low, yearning "wee-o!" "The veery!" I whispered. "Is that the veery?" she exclaimed. "Yes," I said; "listen."

Hee-o, wee-o! hear the cricket chirrin', Hear auld Bawthrens by the ingle purrin', Christ us keep while daddie's gone a-huntin'! Hee-o, wee-o, bonnie Babie Buntin'! The winds and the waters our Father shall praise, The birds, beasts and fishes shall tell o' His ways. By seashore and mountain, by forest and ling, O come all ye people, and praise ye our King!

In the nook were silence and delicious odors of the woods; from a thick shrub on one side came the sweet erratic song of a cat-bird, and at a little distance the rich organ-tones of the wood-thrush. All these entered the soul of the emancipated bird; he listened, he looked, and at last he spoke, a low, soft, "wee-o."

Wee-o, wee-o, tit-ti wee-o, something like this the music ran, with many variations; a most ethereal sound, at the very top of the scale, but faint and sweet; quite in tune also with my mood, for I had just come in from gazing long at the sunset, with Lake Champlain like a sea of gold for perhaps a hundred miles, and a stretch of the St. Lawrence showing far away in the north.

Kling-klang, ding-dong, hear the hammers clinking Stone pots, iron kettles, copper cups for drinkin'! Elf-shots for bowmen plough a mighty furrow Hee-o, wee-o, foxling in our burrow! Hush thee, my baby! The Beltane's aglow, Making the deasil the wiseacres go. Brewing our heather-wine, dancing in round Earth-folk are we, by her spells are we bound.