A miner walked from Wheal Kitty

to Trevellas at the end of a day,

and the path he took was atop the cliff

for that was his easiest way.

 

The moon rode high oe'r the breakers

and the path did twist and turn,

and the Gods of the deep were lurking there

with nothing new to learn.

 

Fourteen hours at fifty fathoms

had taken the breath from him

and the night was quiet but his heart beat loud

on the clifftop's ancient rim.

 

A ship came round from Cligga Point

the rigging spiked with light

and he crossed his heart for such was the way

to redeem a sailor's plight.

 

Its distant lantern sparked and swung

for why he could not say,

an urgent sign it seemed to be

then its bearer moved away.

 

With weary tread the miner went

his body wracked with cold,

with a mile yet in front of him

and a story to be told

 

for soon he saw a maiden walking

some distance up ahead

half turning to watch the ghostly ship

then she heard his tread.

 

The moon it cast their shapes against

the backdrop of the sky,

and soon he reached her where she stood

and heard a lullaby.

 

So delicate and sweet was that eerie voice

that he stood and met her gaze;

she smiled and held her arms apart

as he went into a daze.

 

Entranced, he pressed up close to her

while the moon absolved the sight,

she drew him to her bosom

and her eyes were very bright.

 

As her lips brushed by his ear

she spoke a gaelic tongue

with a distant echo of flaming hills

though she was very young.

 

Then drawing back her willing face

she pointed out to sea;

no trace of the ship could now be seen,

and his heart began to flee.

 

 when he turned to look at her

the face had turned to green,

the breath of her was like the sea

her hair in knots obscene.

 

Though the miner trod the darkened ways

in the labyrinths of tin,

this apparition was a test of strength

he knew he couldn't win.

 

He hurried from that awful place

not caring to look back

until he reached Trevellas

down that fateful miner's track.