Hag Of The Mist

A spectral entity, of Cymric folklore
A hideous hag, who haunts Welsh families.

Shrieking, wailing, screaming, crying
Lamenting the souls of the dying
Dreary moaning, wrathful keening
My child, my child
Coming from a bleak dark mist
Up to the window sill
Of those who have long been ill
My wife, my wife
Shrieking, wailing, screaming, crying
Lamenting the souls of the dying
Dreary moaning, wrathful keening
My love, my love
Flapping wings against the pane
Calling she repeats their name
Harbinger of certain death
I hear her scream.

The night hag haunts our family
Her keening is our curse
For generations in this place
We've heard her dreadful verse
Our father's fathers pass the tale
Of Goo-rakh-uh-hree-bun
She will not leave our family
Until her work is done.

Torn and black dishevelled hair
Lank and withered arms and claws
Darkened eyes and blackened teeth
Ghastly leathered bat like wings
Her figure thin, and crooked back
Trailing robes of obsidian black
Tattered vestments adorn her bust
She's come to turn your soul to dust.

Invisible to all men
But those of the bloodline
We oft' encountered the beast
At crossroads and lonely screams
Splashing and agitating water
With her long bloodless hands
Stalking quietly beside us
Our eternal dark companion.

Sleep silent my child in the cradle of the dusk
As the moon bathes thee in her gentle veiled majesty
Sleep silent my child in the warmth of my arms
Fire embers that fortell the time
As the candle ebbs away
The trees are yearning, for the summer breeze
I kiss your brow and fall to my knees
Tears burning my skin tonight, hold on my dear
The soft caress of morning light will soon be here
Sleep silent my child, as the seasons change
The winds blow wild amongst the winter's rage
The hag of the mist, this families sage
Arrives like thunderous storm
Carrying somber plague
She is gone.