Best.

He rides his black steed through the countryside

And whenever he stops a mortal man dies.

He’s the Angel of Death and worthy of dread;

Dressed all in black and lacking a head.

In his left hand is a spine that he’ll use as a whip;

In his right hand a scythe that will cut to the quick.

He rides his black steed through the countryside

If you chance to observe him you may be struck blind

And still think yourself lucky that he left you behind.

If he pulls on the reins and he finds you outdoors

Your heart will stop dead and will beat nevermore.

There are buckets of blood where the Dullahan rides.

On all Hallows Eve you had best be inside.

John F. McCullagh