THE Banshee cries on the rising wind
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
The dead to free and the quick to bind--
(Close fast the shutter and draw the blind!)
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
Why are you paler my dearest dear?
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
'Tis but the wind in the elm tree near--
(Acushla, hush! lest the Banshee hear!)
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
See, how the crackling fire up-springs,
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
Up and up on its flame-red wings;
Hark, how the cheerful kettle sings!
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
Core of my heart! How cold your lips!
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
White as the spray the wild wind whips,
Still as your icy finger tips!
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
On the rising wind the Banshee cries--
"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"
I kiss your hair. I kiss your eyes--
The kettle is dumb; the red flame dies!
"Ochone! Ochone! Ochone!"
