Ever westward toward the cliffs
The grieving Bhean Fíona raced
Nearly blinded by her tears
Yet with her Elven grace

She cursed the eyes of English Men
Who came in greed, dispensing woe
Who burned the Faerie village down
And laid her Faerghal low

Fíona reached the precipice
She leapt – and beauty caught her eye
She could not bear to live, but now
She could not bear to die

The Elven Lady’s wail rang out
And it was heard throughout the land
It pierced the heart of Irish lad
And soul of English Man

The loveliness of her last view
Was mingled with her anguished throes
The moment Bhean Fíona died
The fearful Bhean Sídhe rose