And now she wanders ‘neath the waves,
her raven hair pulled tight,
dark eyes upon the ocean floor.
She walks it through the night.
The ship she rode was shattered
on a rocky coral shore,
And now poor Muirgen, lost at sea,
will ride the waves no more.
Loved lass she was, and passing fair,
the sailors all did say.
No favor gave she when they’d stare;
she sent them on their way.
A new start was her final wish.
The village grew too small,
and passage bought with man and fish,
they sailed into a squall.
The vessel fought it bravely,
but the waves kept rising higher,
and cracked the mast and broke the deck,
and lightning started fire.
And there was Muirgen, lost at sea,
to bear a bitter fate.
She never would see land again,
but had no one to wait
at home upon the seaside shore
to grieve her soul’s demise,
no family or caretaker.
For Muirgen, no one cries.
They say that you can see her
when the moon and stars are nigh,
serene beneath the rolling surf,
the southern wind her sigh.
We sing of Muirgen, lost at sea,
the world no more to roam.
The current of her passing soul
will guide us safely home.
The current of her passing soul
will guide us
safely
home.
Beyond Panic 