"O cold and lonely is the night,
Madly the fierce winds rave;
How should I sleep?—The shroud is wet
That wraps me in the grave."
She sign'd the cross upon her brow,
The cross upon her breast,
With:—"Avoid thee, ghost, and aroint thee,
ghost,
And get thee to thy rest."
'Twas midnight, brightly glow'd the hearth,