"O hush you, hush you, both red and grey,
Or you will hurry my love away.
"O hush your crowing, both grey and red,
Or he'll be going to join the dead;
O cease from calling his ghost to mould,
And I'll come crowning your combs with gold."
When all were dreaming but Pastheen Power,
A light went streaming from out her bower,
And on the morrow when they awoke,
They knew that sorrow her heart had broke.