Brigadoon

A lonely traveler on the highlands,

one misty, Scottish morn,

wandered from the beaten path

to one less used and worn.

A stranger to the highlands,

on a walking tour to see

the craggy heights and valleys,

chanced upon a mystery.

He knelt beside a gurgling stream

as though to receive eucharist,

but when he lifted his eyes he saw

a stirring town in the mist.

The wanderer ventured nearer

and spied a moss-covered foot bridge,

arching over the stream,

which led to the waking village.

The baker was chiding his wife

who was heartily scolding the bairn.

Chattering, happy voices rose

and filled the air 'round a cairn.

But the chattering halted suddenly

as the stranger entered their midst.

And frightened, suspicious voices burned

like the sun dispelling the mist.

The traveler thought he must have entered

a bright spring medieval fair

with townsfolk dressed in costume

and who practiced a dialect rare.

Angry faces met his surprised look

as a burly man barred his way

and yelled, "None may enter Brigadoon

where a hundred years is a day!"

The others joined the burly man's cry

but soon above the din

came one lilting, golden voice

who laughed, "But he's already IN!"

"A thousand years ago," she explained,

"the townsfolk grew weary of war

and entered a pact with the fairy folk

to cloak Brigadoon from the world.

But the price for fairy utopia

and seclusion from barren winter

was agreed that none may ever leave

and no one may ever enter."

What fate had caused the stranger

to happen upon their town

which only appears for one sweet day

for every hundred years of our own?

Some of the men stayed aloof,

some of them share a beer,

some of them joined in the joke with a laugh,

others stood transfixed with fear.

The traveler spent a blissful day

in the company of the lass

whose golden voice had championed him

and convinced her kin 'llow him pass.

And as the day drew to a close,

she accompanied him to the bridge

where he kissed her good bye and turned away

as the last rays of light hid the village.

A solitary traveler of the highlands

on a springtime afternoon

tread lightly from a secret place

and a glen called Brigadoon.

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(Popular legend has it that Brigadoon was a 1947 musical, based on an older German story of a town called Germelshausen, but the locale was changed to the Scottish highlands in the anti-German, post-war era.)