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Folk music plays an important role in Our Divine Mischief, and it seemed only fitting that the song which runs like a musical current throughout the narrative should be a special one, written for this book. Adam Howard, who performs under the name The Duke of Norfolk, has been heavily influenced by the Scottish folk genre, and he composed a piece for this book that fits it like a glove. You can listen to it here, before (or while!) you read the story, and let the melody carry you–as it carries Áila LacInis–from the first page all the way to the last.
Lyrics:
O’er the heath, where hurcheouns sleep
All cradled by the solum, O,
The westly winds arise and pen
A tune both bright and solemn, O;
The pipe & drum first creaky hum
I turn to hear the whistle, O;
Lyk night hae daw, ilk freeze hae thaw
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
Golden light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
The pipe & drum begin tae hum
Of golden light and thistle, O.
Auld Gaelan turns, her lantern burns
The last of evening fuel, O,
An shakes the bed of leafy reds
An doffs her crown of jewels, O;
Her gowning white is set to side
And hang’ed with the mistletoe.
She dawns a robe of Ilbhan rose
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
Golden light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
She dawns a robe of Ilbhan rose
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
Nigh the ledge, the water’s edge,
Is found a willow bower, O,
All branches twined, and there I’ll find
My true love crowned with flowers, O
Clear and bright, though meek and slight
We watch as day will bristle, O,
And as it stirs, the smell of firs
An’ golden light and thistle, O
Golden light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
As it stirs, the smell of firs,
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
In the rest o’ the zephyr’s breath
The swallow takes the tune, O
Then chorus formed, an aeriform
Organ sings and croons, O.
’Neath the dew the buds accrue
To draft this great epistle, O.
Which spins a tale of warmer gales,
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
Golden light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
It spins a tale of warmer gales
An’ golden light and thistle, O.
Golden light and thistle, O!
Golden light and thistle, O!
The flowers tell of warmer spells
An’ golden light and thistle, O.