Siren

Haste not thine wisdom, for the hollow is ta'en - 
By whom, know I not; 'lack! am I of twain - 
And as a crux - cede I my words - 

Fro my heart wilt thou ne'er 

Have I been 'sooth sinsyne. 

Be left without - come! 

Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine, 
Ryking for me: 
«List and heed», thou say'st 
Chancing to lure. 

Ryking for thee; 
Wistful, whistful - 
Chancing to lure, 
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis - 
Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath! 

Mayhap luréd by the scent of lote - 
'Od! - the fœtid - eft hie back I mote; 
For what I did my soul atrouncéd, 

How I wish for thee again, 

O! do believe me, 'twasn't a frounce. 

Will I give thee it: Troth. 

Thine voice is oh so sweet, I speer thine pine, 
Ryking for me: 
«List and heed», thou say'st 
Chancing to lure. 

Ryking for thee; 
Wistful, whistful - 
Chancing to lure, 
Skirl and skreigh, but for thine ears, aye, lown 'tis - 
Dodge na 'way herefro, do come here in eath!