Cry out! Cry out! Sound the bell!
For in her voice lies a glimpse of hell


Yell and scream but have no doubt
The Reaper’s here, he’ll have his shout

Cry, my dear, for now you’re doomed
The woman wails, you’ll be consumed!

Gather round young and old
Pray for the one who’s turning cold

It’s legend! It’s myth! It can’t be true!
Quiet, dear, don’t be so rude

But no, oh no! Not today!
Hush my friend, she’ll have her way

The Banshee cries—sleep tonight!
For tomorrow you will see the light

Come now, wait, for the grave
A desolate tomb, you cannot be saved!

A deafened shriek—oh no! Could it be?
The Otherworld calls, it’s the woman of the sídhe