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 this they'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