I would build myself a nest, a little downy nest,
And a warbler of the woodland I would wed–
Oh, not the blackbird bold, nor the thrush with voice so cold,
But the Yorlin with the yellow on his head.

I would keep him safe and warm, I would screen him from the storm;
Together we would greet the golden sun–
We would mount the greening stair of the slender larch and fir,
And sing our love until the day be done.

Should he journey far away I would watch both night and day,
I would call upon the seas to go asleep,
And to be a floor of glass, that my wandering love might pass,
Nor fear the curly snares of the deep.

Oh, my Yellow-Yorlin dear, I should ever go in fear
Of the Little Folk who dance beneath the moon:
They would steal you from my side to mate a fairy bride,
And cage my darling Yorlin in the dún.

But I know a way to take to a secret lonely lake
Where scented groves above the waters sway;
And I know a secret tree for my Heart's Desire and me,
Where we'll live and love, forever and a day.