The banshee roams the Irish countryside, hovering just above the ground like a vapor, gliding over bogs, passing Stingy Jack and the Dullahan and other Irish spirits in the night, perhaps.
There is some unknowable magnetism pulling the banshee toward that house in the distance, toward her target. She clatters against the shutters, peers through the window. And she screams. And her scream twists and morphs into a nasally, high-pitched dirge, punctuated by bursts of weeping.
Hovering at the window, the banshee calls an old man to his death. She is a siren spirit of doom singing exit music for a life.
-irishmyths.com