When they flutter'd all mournful in the air As rose the hymn of the requiem prayer, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. There is a voice that but one can hear, Killeevy, O Killeevy! And it softly pours from behind the bier, Its note of death on Sir Turlough's ear, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. The keen is loud, but that voice is low, Killeevy, O Killeevy! And it sings its song of sorrow slow, And names young Turlough's name with woe,, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. Now the grave is closed, and the mass is said, Killeevy, O Killeevy! And the bride she sleeps in her lonely bed, The fairest corpse among the dead, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. The wreaths of virgin-white are laid, Killeevy, O Killeevy! By virgin hands o'er the spotless maid; And the flowers are strewn, but they soon will fade, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. "Oh! go not yet--not yet away, Killeevy, O Killeevy! Let us feel that _life_ is near our clay," The long-departed seem to say, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. But the tramp and voices of _life_ are gone, Killeevy, O Killeevy! And beneath each cold forgotten stone, The mouldering dead sleep all alone, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. But who is he who lingereth yet? Killeevy, O Killeevy! The fresh green sod with his tears is wet, And his heart in that bridal grave is set, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. Oh, who but Sir Turlough, the young and brave, Killeevy, O Killeevy! Should bend him o'er that bridal grave, And to his death-bound Eva rave, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. "Weep not--weep not," said a lady fair, Killeevy, O Killeevy! "Should youth and valour thus despair, And pour their vows to the empty air?" By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. There's charmed music upon her tongue, Killeevy, O Killeevy! Such beauty--bright and warm and young-- Was never seen the maids among, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. A laughing light, a tender grace, Killeevy, O Killeevy! Sparkled in beauty around her face, That grief from mortal heart might chase, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. "The maid for whom thy salt tears fall, Killeevy, O Killeevy! Thy grief or love can ne'er recall; She rests beneath that grassy pall, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. "My heart it strangely cleaves to thee, Killeevy, O Killeevy! And now that thy plighted love is free, Give its unbroken pledge to me, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy." The charm is strong upon Turlough's eye, Killeevy, O Killeevy! His faithless tears are already dry,. And his yielding heart has ceased to sigh, By the bonnie green woods of Killeevy. "To thee," the charmed chief replied, Killeevy, O Killeevy!