The selkie-lass she came abeach, as the sun shone fine and bright. She spent the hours, such joy in each, until she spent the night.
And come the morn her voice did crack; “I must, my love, away.” Her beau held up a burlap sack; “I think, rather, you’ll stay.”
“I stole, you see, your selkie skin as you came from the sea. Forget your kelpy halls, your kin. Think only now of me.”
The selkie’s eyes did brim with tears, salt water now that burned. She looked away, the man drew near, with hands outstretched she turned…
She clutched the sack and, with a rip, she tore it from his hands. And, spinning lightly on her hip, she fled from the dry land.
Selkie-smooth and selkie-quick she leapt into the waves. Ah, the lass had sore been tricked! A wretched howl she gave!
The brute reached round behind his back and from the shade he pulled; a thing obscene, its fur death-slack and gleaming eyes all dulled.
“I kept a memory of your grace, for me to gaze upon. How will you fare without your face? No lovers more, oh no not one…”
The selkie-lass she comes abeach, as the moon shines fine and bright. And if you glimpse her face – bone, bleached – with you she’ll spend the night.
Image and inspiration by Danny McMonagle