I've got a severe issue, my friend,
If you've got some time to spend,
for it's a delicate matter to tend!
Well it started, you see,
With a lovely banshee,
Trailing and wailing behind me.
It wasn't my death she was warning,
Instead it was a lady in mourning.
She was weeping and crying,
Singing and sighing,
As the banshee foresaw she was dying.
By the time I reached the mistress,
She was in far too much distress,
I took some care not to depress,
As to what ailed her, I could only guess.
Her soul slipped gracefully away,
But left a pretty corpse to stay,
Though her skin was turning grey,
Smitten I was, I'm afraid to say.
So it was, in the pale moonlight,
My lover's eye had set its sight,
Though, in the shadows drifted a fright,
a ghostly girl in the dark of night.
She too possessed a beauty refined,
To not see her fairness, I'd have to be blind,
Though I favored my maiden, I sought to be kind,
And offered her some peace of mind.
"Lovely lass, you've lost your course,