The Hosting of the Sidhe
		(W. B. Yeats)


a: 		Em  D  A  C  Hm  Em

		     Em              G         Am

		The host is riding from Knocknarea
		     C                  D         Em

		And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
		  Em             G           Am

		Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
		      C             D          Em

		And Niamh calling Away, come away:

		 F           Em      Am

b: 		Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
		      F      Em         Am

		The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
		      F         G         Am

		Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
		      F           G           A!

		Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,

		     D                     Am

c1: 		Our arms are waving, out lips are apart;
		     D              Am

c2: 		And if any gaze on our rushing band,
		    D                        C

		We come between him and the deed of his hand,
		    C                        D           Em

		We come between him and the hope of his heart.

a: 		The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
		And where is there hope or deed as fair?
		Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
		And Niamh calling Away, come away.

		+ b (i?iea?uo) + n2