Where she stops
Someone dies
Grandma keep a watchful eye

For on your deathbed as you lay
The Dullahan will come to play

Gifted with supernatural sight
You, she sees, in the dark of night
A whip of a human spine she does wield
From her, your soul I cannot shield

Head in hand, grey with decay
I pray to the gods—come what may
On her pitch-black steed she rides
Dressed in a gown stitched of human hides

Her decapitated head wears a Glasgow grin
Prepare for death when the Dullahan comes riding in

Member of the Unseelie Court
She’s the collector of souls; bodies amort
Although the protective curtain’s drawn
Grandma, you’ll be dead before the dawn