Lorelei's Song

If there's reason, I can't recall it, Why I feel sick and tense. A fable demands I tell it, An old tale without sense.

The heavens are cool and dark now And quiet flows the Rhine; The peak of the Rock is a spark now Of summer eveningshine.

In glory amid the last light There sits a maid most fair. Her garment and jewels shine bright As she combs her golden hair

With a golden comb; and she's singing The most marvellous song to me. Even piercing my drums could not bring Escape from that melody.

In my skiff I am a captive Of each melodious note, Caring nothing for the rapids That wait to sink my boat.

The waves will be devouring, Too soon, both skiff and I; And I will die still hearing The song of Lorelei.