THE WHITE WITCH
Heaven help your home to-night,
M'Cormac, for I know
A white witch woman is your bride:
You married for your woe.
You thought her but a simple maid
That roamed the mountain-side;
She put the witches glance on you,
And so became your bride.
But I have watched her close and long
And know her all too well;
I never churned before her glance
But evil luck befell.
Last week the cow beneath my hand
Gave out no milk at all;
I turned, and saw the pale-haired girl
Lean laughing by the wall.
“A little sup,” she cried, “for me;
The day is hot and dry.”
“Begone!” I said, “you witch's child,”
She laughed a loud goodbye.
And when the butter in the churn
Will never rise, I see
Beside the door the white witch girl
Has got her eyes on me.
52
