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?