'There's a hound at the door, Shawn O'Farrell,
There's a hound at the door.
If you take down the bar or the shutter,
I shall see you no more,
I shall see you no more!'

'Oh, it is but the sea that is loosing
The white dogs of its spray.
Take your gentle young arms from about me,
For I must on my way.'

'But they whine at the window, O'Farrell,
How they sniff at the pane!'
'Oh, it is but the wind in its passing,
The wild wind and the rain.'

'How they keen in their waiting, O'Farrell,
So I hold you, afraid.'
''Tis some soul that's nigh lost in the tempest
Who so calls for my aid.'

'It's a witch of the waters, O'Farrell,
All sea-cold and wave-white,
With her hounds that will fawn till you follow
To your death in the night.'

He has opened the door, Shawn O'Farrell,
And gone forth to the dark;
The wild hounds by his heel race and quarrel,
How they leap and they bark!

He has launched his frail boat on the waters—
He has pushed from the shore!
Pray, oh, pray for the soul of O'Farrell,
He shall come back no more.
'Shawn O'Farrell, O'Farrell, O'Farrell,
I shall see you no more!'