There once was a lass with silver hair
And eyes lit up by the brightest sea.
She lived in a cottage with an old hag who,
For a penny or so, had sold her dreams.
Now the hag sat alone, in a rocking chair,
While the fair lass fed the fire.
She cared not for the lass, and began to laugh,
As the flames rose higher and higher.
She knew quite well that the fire would bite
The hand of the maiden sweet.
The girl wept tears from her ocean eyes
Which pooled about her feet.
That night as the young one lay in bed
A faerie wandered in from the wild.
He took the hand of the little girl
And his magic cured the child.
He invited her to dance with him
In the ring where the wee folk play.
They slipped into the cloak of night
And down the wooded way.
There they found a ring of trees
Where fell the gentlest dust of white.
There luminescent goblins pranced
And frolicked in their delight.
The lass danced with the faerie prince,
For prince he was, indeed.
The spun about without the time,
Which had long ago taken its leave.
The prince looked at the child and asked
If she would be his bride.
Nodding yes she began to feel
The hand of sleep upon her eyes.
The following morrow the hag went out
To find the naughty run-away.
She found a child with tangled hair
By the stream where she always played.
"You wicked wretch!" the old hag spat
As the child turned about.
The child smiled with pointed teeth,
A forked tongue in her mouth.
Her eyes were black and her face deformed;
Her hands were only claws.
She laughed a wicked laugh which further skewed
Her crooked maw.
She opened her jaws to speak a verse,
The meaning of which was very clear,
In a gravelly croak the changeling spoke,
In a whisper only a hag could hear.
"Be kind to your children
Or you will find
That the faeries will take them
To far away lands.
Then all you get
Is a changeling babe,
Born from the filth
Of your own two hands."