Young rider rides his steed home each day
Along track on heathered hillside from town..
After his working within the local flour mill
When the day has ended sun has gone down..
Upon the way every day he passes old hut near
With candle lit curtains in window a little dim..
There a maiden as told takes care of a mother
Within older age her health as said rather grim..
Maiden only seen in market place by peddlers
With basket buying what she may need that day..
Some say there's a brother working upon ships
Who is mostly out to sea working for his pay..
Young rider sees candle lit window always same
Seeming not to ever change of the passing sight..
Being only one after setting sun gone and done
Daylight having given away to the coming night..
Twas then one early night window dark no light
Rider rides to hut upon the heathered hill near..
A fresh made crossed grave outside locked hut
Upon cross her mothers name maiden's not here..
Maiden always lived within hut on heathered hill
No close friends had she as told it seems around..
Taking care of mother there they say bed ridden
Falling years ago from an old horse to the ground..
No more the maiden at the market place was seen
Alone caring mother her brother away out to sea..
Nobody they knew where it was she had gone to
No more candle lit window now dark there to see..