THE CHANGELING.

By night they came and from my bed

They stole my babe, and left behind

A thing I hate, a thing I dread —

A changeling who is old and blind;

He's moaning all the night and day

For those who took my babe away.

My little babe was sweet and fair,

He crooned to sleep upon my breast —

But O the burden I must bear!

This drinks all day and will not rest —

My little babe had hair so light —

And his is growing dark as night.

Yon evil day when I would leave

My little babe the stook behind!—

The fairies coming home at eve

Upon an eddy of the wind,

Would cast their eyes with envy deep

Upon my heart's-love in his sleep.

What holy woman will ye find

To weave a spell and work a charm?

A holy woman, pure and kind,

Who'll keep my little babe from harm —

Who'll make the evil changeling flee,

And bring my sweet one back to me?