Classic Poem

I've learned the tale of the crooning waves
And the lore of the honey bee,
The Mermaids' song in the lonely caves
Of Rosses by the sea.

For I 'm never let out to the dance and wake,
Because I 'm a gasair small;
But stay at home, for my mother's sake,
And never grow weary at all.

She taught me the lore of the fairy men,
Who live in the haunted rath;
And tells me to pray to Mary, when
I cross the gossamer path.

For it 's true that the gossamer threads are thrown
From the holly tree to the grass,
When the moon-white night is long and lone,
For the fairy band to pass.

But, if ever you cross their way at all,
May Mary be with you then,
For they steal the children into their hall
That 's hid in the haunted glen.

The hall that 's under the gentle thorn,
Where my little brother must stay,
For the fairies came, before I was born,
And stole my brother away.

And mother says he is free from pain
(They have kept him seven years)
Yet she 'd rather far have him back again,
And tells me so in tears.

Ah! many a song she has sung to me,
And many a song she knew,
And many a story there used to be,
And Mother's tales are true.

So I know the chant of the crooning waves
And the lore of the honey bee,
And the Mermaids' song in the lonely caves,
Of Rosses by the sea.