wailing

There’s a white lady walks along the brook just about this time of the night and wrings her hands and utters wailing cries.

She marched the shrinking ghost-seer down to the spring and ordered her to proceed straightway over the bridge and into the dusky retreats of wailing ladies and headless specters beyond.

In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind, Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.

“Didn’t you know water would be the end of me?” asked the Witch, in a wailing, despairing voice.