Where Lagan streams sings lullaby, there blows a lily fair
The twilight gleam is on her eye, the night is on her hair
And like a love sick Leannán Sí
She hath my heart in thrall
Nor life I owe, nor liberty for love is Lord of all
And often when the beetle’s horn had lulled the Eve to sleep.
I steal onto her shielding lorn and through the door I peep
There on the crickets, singing stone
She stirs the bog wood fire
And hums in sad sweet undertone the song of hearts desire
Her welcome like her love for me, is from the heart within
Her warm kiss is felicity that knows no taint or sin
When she was only very small her gentle Mother died
But true love keeps her memory warm
By Lagan’s river side.
This Irish air taken from Herbert Hughes’ early 19th century collection was known as the “The Belfast Maid” before his good friend Joseph Campbell, put words to it. For me this song is about love surviving everything, even death.
