Lullaby: Husheen, the herons are crying

Husheen, the herons are crying

Away in the rain and the sleet,

Flying and flying and flying,

With never a rest for their feet.

But warm in your coverlid nestle,

Wee Bird, till the dawn of the day,

Nor dream of the wild wings that wrestle

In the night and the rain and the grey.

Come, sweetheart, the bright ones would bring you

By the magical meadows and streams,

With the light of your dreaming they build you

A house on the hill of your dreams.

But you stir in your sleep and you murmur,

As though the wild rain and the grey

Wet hills, with the wind ever blowing

Had driven your dreams away.

And dearer the wind in its crying,

And the secrets the wet hills hold,

Than the goldenest place they could find you

In the heart of a country of gold.