THE Banshee cries on the rising wind @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 The dead to free and the quick to bind— (Close fast the shutter and draw the blind!) @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 Why are you paler my dearest dear? @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 'Tis but the wind in the elm tree near— (Acushla, hush! lest the Banshee hear!) @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 See, how the crackling fire up-springs, @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 Up and up on its flame-red wings; Hark, how the cheerful kettle sings! @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 Core of my heart! How cold your lips! @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 White as the spray the wild wind whips, Still as your icy finger tips! @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 On the rising wind the Banshee cries— @3"O-hoho, O hoho-o-o!"@1 I kiss your hair. I kiss your eyes— The kettle is dumb; the red flame dies! @3"Ochone! Ochone! Ochone!"@1 |