Song of the Cailleach Bheur

[suebrenna.livejournal.com]

Song of the Cailleach Bheur
By Jane Yolen

Do you see her there, her staff in hand,
Calling the deer behind her?
They come like sheep to the shepherd's pipe,
Running on their toes to find her.

Come down frae the hills you wolves, you swine,
Come down frae the highlands and hollows,
Come down frae the snow-capped mountain fasts,
The Cailleach Bheur to follow.

She is the winter, the wind, the snow,
Her breath both warm and chilling.
A single word from her icy lips,
A single kiss is killing.

I kenned her once in the winter tide,
When snow lay on the heather
I saw her dance with the lithesome goats
And the snoutish boar together.

I kenned her wrapped in a winter storm
Like a white shawl on her shoulders,
With icicle drops for earring bobs,
Her hair as grey as boulders.

She is the winter, the wind, the snow,
Her breath both warm and chilling.
A single word from her icy lips,
A single kiss is killing.

I have heard that upon the May Day Eve,
Her staff will lie under the holly.
Then she will turn to a standing stane,
Like a tall, indomitable folly.

But I dare ye gae--as I will not
For fear of hurt and dying--
To gambol beside that great grey stane
The winds aboot ye sighing.

She is the winter, the wind, the snow,
Her breath both warm and chilling.
A single word from her icy lips,
A single kiss is killing.