  Sweet babe! a golden cradle holds thee, And soft the snow-white fleece enfolds thee; In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping, Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. Shuheen sho, lulo lo 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 sluagh 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 koelshie's numbers; In airy bower I'll watch thy sleeping, Where branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping. Shuheen sho, lulo lo! Edward Walsh |
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