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'Twas all on a cold winter's night
When the winds blew across the wild moor,
That Mary came wand'ring along with her child,
Till she came to her own father's door.
"O why did I leave this dear spot,
Where once I was happy and free?
And now doomed to roam without friends or a home,
And none to take pity on me?
"O father, dear father," she cried,
"Do come downstairs and open the door!
For the child in my arms will perish and die
From the winds that blow 'cross the wild moor."
But the old man was deaf to her cries,
Not a sound of her voice did he hear,
But the watchdog did howl and tAe village bell tolled
And the winds blew across the wild moor.
O how must the old man have felt
When he came to the door the next morn
And found Mary dead, but the child was alive,
Closely clasped in its dead mother's arms.
With anguish he tore his gray hair,
While the tears down his cheeks they did roll
Saying, "There Mary died, once the gay village bride,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor."
The old man with grief pined away,
And the child to its mother went soon;
There's no one, they say, has lived there to this day,
And the cottage to ruin has gone.
The villagers point out the spot,
Where the willows droop over the door,
Saying, "There Mary died, once the gay village bride,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor."
It was on one cold winter's night
As the winds blew across the wild Moor
As poor Mary came wandering home with her child
Til she came to her own father's door
Oh father, dear father, she cried
Come down here & open the door
For the child in my arms , he will perish & die
From the winds that blew cross the wild moor
But her father's deaf to her cries
Not a sound of her voice did he hear
Though the watch-dog did howl & the village bell tolled
& the winds blew across the wild moor
Oh, why did I leave this fair town
Where once I was happy & free
I am now doomed to roam without friends or a home
And no one to take pity on me
Oh, how the old man must have felt
When he came to the door the next morn
& found Mary dead, but the child still alive
Closely clasped in it's dead mother's arms
In anger he tore his grey hair
As the teard down his cheeks , they did fall
When he saw how that night she had perished & died
From the winds that blew cross the wild moor