The whisper of the banshee

In the misty veil, where shadows lie,
She weeps for the lost, with an echoing cry,
Eerie winds call through the trees,
The wail of a banshee, brings men to their knees.
"Síocháin" lost to the night, we fade,
"Anam" trembling, in the moonlight's shade,
Ancient voices, haunting the dark,
In her sorrow, leaves a deadly mark.
O Banshee, keeper of fate,
Echoing sorrow, sealed in our fate.
"Go dtiocfaidh an bás," her voice declares,
Guiding lost souls, beyond the snares.
In every whisper, a mournful tale,
Of lovers lost, and hearts grown pale,
"Scáth na hoíche," shadows descend,
The banshee's lament that none can mend.
Soft as a whisper, cold as the grave,
Bound to the past, no life she can save.
"Mo chroí" she mourns, her sorrow undying,
With each cry, a spirit complying.
O Banshee, keeper of fate,
Echoing sorrow, sealed in our fate.
"Go dtiocfaidh an bás," her voice declares,
Guiding lost souls, beyond the snares.
"Na deora," tears of ages long past,
In her song, every breath is cast.
Bound to the land, cursed to roam,
Seeking the souls who’ll never come home.
When night draws close and winds are still,
Beware her cry from over the hill.
"Slán go fóill," she fades from sight,
The banshee's sorrow, swallowed by night.
O Banshee, keeper of fate,
Echoing sorrow, sealed in our fate.
"Go dtiocfaidh an bás," her voice declares,
Guiding lost souls, beyond the snares.