Ballads of Irish chivalry By Robert Dwyer Joyce: Edited, with Annotations, by his brother P. W. Joyce |
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KILBRANNON. |
 | Ballads of Irish chivalry |  |
KILBRANNON.
I
“My love, braid up thy golden locksAnd don thy cloak and shoon;
We'll sit upon Kilbrannon's rocks,
While shines the silvery moon:
And bring thy little babe with thee,
For his dear father's sake,
The lands where he'll be lord to see,
By lone Kilbrannon lake.”
II
She's braided up her golden locks,She's donned her cloak and shoon,
And they're away to Kilbrannon's rocks
By the clear light of the moon.
Sir Hubert he took both wife and child
Upon that night of woe,
And hurled them over the rocks so wild,
To the lake's black depths below.
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III
And he has married another May,With locks of ebonie,
And her looks are sweet, and her heart is gay,
Yet a woeful wight is he.
He wakes the woods with his bugle horn,
But his heart is heavy and sore;
And he ever shuns those crags forlorn
By lone Kilbrannon shore.
IV
For down in the lake the dead won't rest,That mournful murdered one;
With her little babe at her pulseless breast,
She walks the waters lone;
And she calls at night her murderer's name,
And will call for evermore,
Till the huge rocks melt in doomsday flame
By lone Kilbrannon shore.
| Ballads of Irish chivalry | |