WHY ride so fast through the wind and rain,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
Lest a soul should call for me in vain
To-night, O Vanathee.
Now, whose is the soul shall seek thine aid,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
The soul of one that is sore afraid
To-night, O Vanathee.
O fears he the flurry of wind and rain,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
More deep is the dread that sears his brain
To-night, O Vanathee.
Does he fear the tumult of clanging blows,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
Nay, darker still is the fear he knows
To-night, O Vanathee.
Does he fear the loss of or wife or child,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
Nay, a terror holds him that's still more wild
To-night, O Vanathee.
O what should make him so sore afraid,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
He fears a wraith that himself has made
To-night, O Vanathee.
Then how shall you cleanse from fear his mind,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
I will touch his eyes, and they shall be blind
To-night, O Vanathee.
Yet still may he know the voice of fear,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
I will touch his ears that he shall not hear
To-night, O Vanathee.
Yet that wraith may linger around his bed,
Grey Rider of the Shee ?
No terror shall touch the quiet dead
To-night, O Vanathee.
Shee, Sidhe –Fairies.
Vanathee, Bean-an-Tighe –Woman of the house.
