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As I walked on the moor, the night grown cold
The moon on the lea and the sheep in their fold
I was nearing the banks of deep Lough Neagh
When out of the mists came a wailing banshee
Now my blood ran cold and my heart began to pray
I knew what this meant and no one had to say
I looked to the castle and on the wall so high
Paced the spirit woman, her wail now a sigh
Her hair was misty cobweb, her dress a tattered gauze
And the look in her eyes would give a mortal man pause
I trembled in my shoes and my heart began to fail
When out of her mouth came a high pitched wail
Into a pit of sadness I fell, deep and black as coal
No man can hear that voice and not have it touch his soul
She crooned the song of death, terrible and low
A man would die tonight, dealt his mortal blow
No more could I take and into a faint I fell
I awoke to hear the toll of the sweet church bell
I stumbled to the lake and in the morning light
My reflected gaze looked back, my hair had turned to white
Now in the dark I tremble, sometimes I'm up all night
Never will I forget that awful, terrible sight
For it was my father that died, the night of the banshee
The next time that she wails it will be for me. |
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