I saw your daughter yesterday as I was idle on the porch she slept-walked from your house down the walkway as though she'd done it all before and the moon was out
and in her gown beside the riverbed she got down on her knees and wrapped her long hair up in vines, and leaves, and branches and with the wind beneath her feet oh, she waltzed with the dead
and everything was bathed in light white as milk as the impossible began she danced across the water's edge but her feet, they didn't sink as though she flew
I ran out in the water with a lantern in my hand I was waste deep and shivering I took her wrist and walked her in I was loathe to interrupt her but I had to get her home if people were to see thisthey'd gather up, raise hell and burn her alive
don't you mind, don't you mind she'll be fine tie a bell around her ankle before she lays down at night and the sound of her footsteps will wake me in time don't you mind, don't you mind I'll watch over her as though she were mine