that's never been made quite clear.
It won't take me long, oh,
I'm sure he'd be glad to hear.
how she was to be my wife,
How she came, how we went,
Well, the rain blew out of the sunset,
and the clouds blew over the sky.
Through the fallin' darkness,
And out from the woodland,
she ran with tears so blind
And there, on the high road,
we met for the first time.
She cried upon my shoulder,
her hair as black as night.
I stroked the long dark tresses
and calmed her of her fright
Her gleaming eyes were wet with tears,
her lids were shy cast down
I took her hand, I held her close,
we walked back to the town
I called on her quite often
We walked out by the stream
Picked primrose in the marshes
To hear the wild gulls scream
The sun was black and crimson
As it sets above the wood
I took her hand, I held her close,
And I kissed her as I could.
Her father was the hangman,
For fear someone would talk to her,
But my lady was a rambler,
And cut through every bar,
And rose above the village
Just like the morning star
We stood down at the crossroads
And watched the gibbets swing
Her tears were on my shoulder
And I held her close to cry
And through that long sad afternoon,
We talked about her childhood,
of all the life she'd known.
There was food upon the table,
there were flowers in her home.
We talked and she remembered,
those things best long forgot.
A rope hung on the kitchen door
We talked about her childhood
Of all the life she'd known
There was food upon the table,
there were flowers in her home.
We talked and she remembered,
those things best long forgot.
A rope hung on the kitchen door
The snow was on the mountains,
the air was cold and still
I left my home at sunrise,
and I met her at the mill
We clung hard to each other
We climbed the first blue hillside
and silently looked down.
The horse was pulling forward
as we turned our heads around.
And so we left our homeland
With the hangman's beautiful daughter,
4.8
