Soontree

(A Lullaby) 

My joy and my grief, go sleep and gather 
Dreams from the tree where the dreams hang low, 
Rounder than apples, and sweeter than honey, 
All to delight you, ma creevin cno! 

My joy, fill your dear hands full of roses, 
And gather lilies that stand a-row: 
Pull rush and reed with the Shee's fair children, 
But eat not, drink not, ma creevin cno! 

You may not taste of the cups of honey, 
You may not taste of the wine blood-red, 
Of the mead and the wine he drank, your father, 
And the next night's rain wept your father, dead. 

Reach up to the star that hangs the lowest, 
Tread down the drift of the apple-blow, 
Ride your ragweed horse to the Isle of Nobles, 
But the Shee's wine drink not, ma creevin cno! 
Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen sho!