The first time I heard this song was on EJ Jones' solo album, The Willow. I was immediately drawn to the beautiful melody and thought, "This song HAS to have words." I consulted the interwebs and found that, indeed, the song did have words. Finally, six years later, I am singing that song. As a special treat, EJ has added his musical touch to this track.
October winds lament around the castle of Dromore
Yet peace is in her lofty halls, a pháiste bán a stor
Though autumn leaves may droop and die, a bud of spring are you
Hushabye loo, low loo, low lan, hushabye loo, low loo
Dread spirits all of black water, Clan Owen's wild banshee
Bring no ill wind to him nor us, my helpless babe and me
Holy Mary pity us to Heaven for grace doth 'sue
Take time to thrive, my ray of hope, in the garden of Dromore
Take heed, young eaglet, till thy wings are feathered fit to soar
A little rest and then the world is full of work to do