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When dark clouds drift 'cross moonlit sky
And shadows deepen with silent sigh;
When chilling breeze stirs lifeless leaves,
And for fading sun  you fearfully grieve;

When 'gainst the dark, distant lightnings flash,
And you hear the sound of thunderous crash;
When the slightest sound makes you leap in alarm,
And you start to fear danger or sudden harm;

When you people each shadow with monstrous form
And you start to shiver while still feelling warm;
When you begin to breathe with shallow breath,
And you feel the presence of imminent death;

When silence is broken by wailing moan,
And deep in your soul you feel a groan;
When darkness encroaches despite the light,
And despair urges you to give up the fight;

Then know the banshee wails for you,
And steel your soul for what you must do.
Only by weapon of pure gold may banshee be slain;
Produce one not, and it shall surely be your bane.

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