Raven's host

Your body there lies cold and pale.

The winds have ceased to moan and wail.

And then a sound heard from on high.

The Raven’s host has gathered nigh.

They gather round-the raised stone mound.

And from the mob, there comes a sound;

A single word they cry, they speak; a single cry from mouth, from beak.

They’re mourning for, what she once gave;

They’re mourning her; the fair queen Maeve