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 And sent her down to Limerick town
And to a seaman sold
This daughter of an Irish lord
For ten good pounds in gold.
The lord he smote upon his breast,
And tore his beard so gray;
But he was old, and she was young,
And so she had her way.
Sure that same night the Banshee howled
To fright the evil dame,
And fairy folks, who loved Kathleen,
With funeral torches came.
She watched them glancing through the trees,
And glimmering down the hill;
They crept before the dead-vault door,
And there they all stood still!
‘Get up, old man! the wake-lights shine!’
‘Ye murthering witch,’ quoth he,
“So I'm rid of your tongue, I little care
If they shine for you or me.”
“Oh, whoso brings my daughter back,
My gold and land shall have!”
Oh, then spake up his handsome page,
“No gold nor land I crave!
But give to me your daughter dear,
Give sweet Kathleen to me,
Be she on sea or be she on land,
I'll bring her back to thee. “
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