When young wives languish broken-hearted,
When young wives are from husbands parted,
Ah! little think the keeners lonely,
They weep some time-worn fairy only.
Shuheen, sho, lulo, lo!
Within our magic halls of brightness,
Trips many a foot of snowy whiteness;
Stolen maidens, queens of fairy --
And kings and chiefs a slaugh-shee-airy.
Shuheen, sho, lulo, lo!
Rest thee babe! I love thee dearly,
And as thy mortal mother nearly;
Ours is the swiftest steed and proudest,
That moves where the tramp of the host is loudest.
Shuheen, sho, lulo, lo!
Rest thee babe! for soon thy slumbers
Shall flee at the magic koelshies numbers;
In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping,
Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping.
- Edward Walsh -