|
It was on one cold winter night |
|
When the wind blew across the wild moor |
|
When Mary came wandering home with her child |
|
Till she came to her own father's door |
|
Father, dear father, she cried |
|
Come down and open the door |
|
Or the child in my arms, will perish and die |
|
From the winds that blow across the wild moor |
|
But her father was deaf to her cry |
|
Not a sound of her voice, did he hear |
|
So the watch dog did howl and the village bells tolled |
|
And the wind blew across the wild moor |
|
Oh, how the old man must have felt |
|
When he came to the door, the next mornin' |
|
And he found |
|
Mary dead, but the child still alive |
|
Closely grasping his dead mother's arms |
|
In grief the old man passed away |
|
And the child to it's mother went soon |
|
And no one they say, lives there to this day |
|
And the cottage to ruin has gone |
|
But the villagers point out the spot |
|
Where the willows grew over the door |
|
Saying there |
|
Mary died, once the gay village bride |
|
From the wind that blow across the wild moor |
