The Nightmareic Banshee

The Baleful banshee, pale and warn,
Frail and haggard, long forlorn,
Wails from midnight until morn.
And her eyes are red with weeping.

She combs her foul and filthy hair
And shrieks into the midnight air,
And, oh, my child, you’d best beware.
She’ll rouse you from your sleeping.

She calls from near the river side,
And calling, she’ll not be denied.
It does no good to run and hide.
It’s death she is forecasting.

When she sings out a mortal’s name,
That life eternity shall claim,
To substitute for earthly flame
The slumber everlasting.

Upon the night that she appears
To send her song into your ears
She’ll not abide your please and tears.
The Banshee scorns your sorrow.

So pray she does not come this night
If you would see the morning’s light.
Sleep well, my child, sleep fast and tight.
And dream of sweet tomorrow.