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Edward Walsh

Sweet Babe! A golden cradle holds thee,
And soft the snow-white fleece enfolds thee;
In airy bower I’ll watch thy sleeping,
Where the branchy trees to the breeze are sweeping.
Shuheen, sho, lulo! Lo!

When mothers languish broken-hearted,
When young wives are from husbands parted,
Ah! Littl think the keeners lonely,
They weep some time-worn fairy only.
Shuheen sho, lulo lo!

Within our magich halls of brightness,
Trips many a foot of snowy whiteness;
Stolen maidens, queen of fairy-
And kings and chiefs a sluagh-sidhe 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’s Cheol-Sidhe numbers;
In airy bower I’ll watch thy sleeping,
Where branch trees to the breeze are sweeping.
Shuheen sho, lulo, lo!

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