The Stolen Child

The WaterboysThe Waterboys 

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The Waterboys

The Waterboys are a band formed in 1983 by Mike Scott. The band's membership, past and present, has been composed mainly of musicians from Scotland, Ireland and England. Edinburgh, London, Dublin, Spiddal, New York, and Findhorn have all served as homes for the group. The band has played in a number of different styles, but their music is a mix of Celtic folk music with rock and roll. After ten years of recording and touring, they dissolved in 1993 and Scott pursued a solo career. They reformed in 2000, and continue to release albums and tour worldwide. Scott emphasizes a continuity between The Waterboys and his solo work, saying that "To me there's no difference between Mike Scott and the Waterboys; they both mean the same thing. They mean myself and whoever… more »

Year:

1988

6:55

223 Views

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#2

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(WB Yeats)
Come away, human child 
 to the water
Come away, human child 
 to the water and the wild
With a fairy, hand in hand
 for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

Where dips the rocky highland
 of Sleuth Wood in the lake
There lies a leafy island
 where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
 there we've hid our fairy vats
Full of berries
 and of reddest stolen cherries

Come away, human child 
 to the water
Come away, human child 
 to the water and the wild
With a fairy, hand in hand
 for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
 the dim gray sands with light
Far off by furthest Rosses
 we foot it all the night
Weaving olden dances
 mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
 to and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles
 while the world is full of troubles
And is anxious in its sleep

Come away, human child 
 to the water
Come away, human child 
 to the water and the wild
With a fairy, hand in hand
 for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand

Where the wandering water gushes
 from the hills above Glen-Car
In pools among the rushes
 the scarce could bathe a star
We seek for slumbering trout
 and whispering in their ears
We give them unquiet dreams;
 leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
 over the young streams

Away with us he's going
 the solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
 of the calves on the warm hillside;
Or the kettle on the hob
 sing peace into his breast
Or see the brown mi

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