Banshee Lullaby

Aye, me lass, me sweet but poor one,
lay here in me banshee arms,
as we rest before yer leavin’
from this world’s fair vibrant charms.

Take yer last look at the rainbows.
Bid this meadow fond farewell,
as this face whereon ye’re leanin’
is false comfort in this dell.

A blinded banshee, I’ve been summoned
to carry ye o’er to death’s far shore.
Hold my hand and laugh to the treetops,
before I am bidden to tarry no more.

All that I know of your child-sweet spirit
is the wee warmth of your sun-kissed hair
and a bairn’s trust in these clutching fingers,
the perilous grip of my dark’ning care.

Wings of black crows will carry us onward.
My scream, to you, will be but a tune.
Time grows near to take leave of Erin.
Turn now your face to the word of the rune.
Turn now your face to Death coming soon.