| |
| “MY love, braid up thy golden locks, | |
| And don thy silken shoon, | |
| We ’ll sit upon Kilbrannon’s rocks, | |
| Where shines the silvery moon; | |
| And bring thy little babe with thee, | 5 |
| For his dear father’s sake, | |
| The lands where he ’ll be lord to see, | |
| By lone Kilbrannon lake.” | |
| |
| She ’s braided up her golden locks, | |
| She ’s donned her silken shoon, | 10 |
| And they ’re away to Kilbrannon’s rocks | |
| By the cold light of the moon: | |
| Sir Hubert he took both wife and child | |
| Upon that night of woe, | |
| And hurled them over the rocks so wild, | 15 |
| To the lake’s blue depths below. | |
| |
| And he has married another May, | |
| With the locks of ebonie, | |
| And her looks are sweet, and her heart is gay, | |
| Yet a woful wight is he; | 20 |
| He wakes the woods with his bugle-horn, | |
| But his heart is heavy and sore; | |
| And he ever shuns those crags forlorn | |
| By lone Kilbrannon shore. | |
| |
| For down in the lake the dead won’t rest, | 25 |
| That vengeful murdered one; | |
| With her little babe at her pulseless breast, | |
| She walks the waters lone; | |
| And she calls at night her murderer’s name, | |
| And will call forevermore, | 30 |
| Till the huge rocks melt in doomsday flame | |
| By wild Kilbrannon shore. | |
| |
