“I do not,” she answers. “But you’re surely a stranger to these parts or you wouldn’t sit there with the waves beginning to rise.”
“Maybe I travelled this bay before you were born,” says he.
With that she let a laugh out of her.
“I’m thinking the two of us are about the one age,” says she. “So quit your old-fashioned talk and come on out of that till I show you the way up the cliff.”
“You’re a beautiful girl,” says the stranger, “and the wish is on me to please you. Climb up out of reach of the rising sea and I’ll play you a tune on the harp.”
Well she travelled back over the sand and up by the path to the cliff, never doubting but the stranger was following on. But when she looked down she seen him below on the rock.
“It is drownded you’ll be,” she calls out.
“Let you not be uneasy,” says he.
With that he began for to play on the harp, and the music enchanted the fisherman’s child and the tears ran down from her eyes. When she looked again to the rock wasn’t the stranger washed from it and a big white wave curled up from the place.
“I’m after finding and losing a beautiful boy,” says she, and she went away home lamenting his death.