’twas a sad time what with the animals dying

and the children sick and the full moon waning.

.

The fields were laid to rest and

Even the prata were frozen well below the ground.

.

The Good Folk huddled in the shidhe,

Not making a blessed sound.

.

Barley, damp and rotten, lay black on the fields,

Two cows hidebound and lowing.

.

What punishment was this?

For what sins were we paying?

.

Prayers to the good Christ, and

Milk to coax the Good Folk.

Cross yourselves three times everyday,

Put the pine cones, feathers and nuts beneath the tree.

.

May the gnomes and the Devil not pass this way again,

May the Childe Jesus and Sweet Aghna, settle in our crib.

.

’twas a sad time we pray not come again.