Michael Woodhead

WAIL OF A BANSHEE

Written & Composed by Michael Woodhead
Copyright © 1969, 2020

My ears are struck by something loud
And, something else now wears a shroud
And there's nothing like a cloud

My eyes are blinded by a light
And then I find I've lost my sight
And everything is now like night

The wail of a banshee
Is heard o'er the land
The flesh of his body
Is seen in my hand

My feet now tread on white-hot stones
And pass through calciumed, whitened bones
And there sit three aged crones

My breast is heaving for some air
And something now is in my hair
But nothing seems to be up there

The wail of a banshee
Is heard o'er the land
The flesh of his body
Is seen in my hand

My mind is reeling round and round
And now, gone, too, is all the sound
Of men; and here, now, I lie bound

My thighs are now both bruised and sore
And I know I can take no more
And here, too, is a lance to gore

The wail of a banshee
Is heard o'er the land
The flesh of his body
Is seen in my hand


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