Once Upon a Time
On Sliabh Mis mountain, Foley’s Glen,
the Widow Scotia lies in wait;
incantations meld with mist
and twist in curl and bloom of cloud,
avowed to wreak revenge
on Celtic kings.
Four hundred years before Our Lord,
the Pharaoh’s daughter drew her sword
for to avenge her husband dear.
Her stumble-steed, in error, fell,
and now she bides in Foley’s Glen.
And how she keens, how she moans,
the Widow Scotia, Pharaoh’s daughter;
all these years of grief and tears,
all this time alone.
Carving wrath in silt and stone,
she cuts her tongue on jagged banks.
Only Sister Silver sees
the green she spits upon the rocks
for wanderers to skid and crump
and feed her fierce hunger.
With ancient tongue, and hate within,
she conjures sinew, muscle, skin.
She seeks Dé Danann - stand aside!
She’ll jump upon your back astride
and with an awful curdle-cry,
she’ll ride your flesh to bone.
And how she bellows! How she crows!
The Widow Scotia, Pharaoh’s daughter;
all these years of bitter sorrow
feast upon today.
To those who deem her cruel and cold,
a spectral terror, heinous crone:
this desolate and broken soul
has lost her lover, children, home.
Cast not your one-eyed pious stone.
She’s trapped in Foley’s Glen,