James Reid
Winter's Cry
The sound of twilight called my name so
As I cut wood from the hedgerow
The cry of a winter's night
Gave me shivers my hook was held tight And every time I cut the willow
My blood it stains the bark
Did I not ask of you right
Or was my cut not enough sharp
Her call was that of folk feared legend
(left my baby lying there I'll never find my baby'o)
A banshee woman insane in the dusk (found the wee red foxes tracks but never found my baby'o) The musk of the hunt of night
The nightly hunt a must
And I watched her work her sly trap
As I walked on down the bridal path
She gave me a look of backwards fashion
Which broke my back like under twenty lashings
Like under twenty lashings
From Letras Mania