'Twas on one cold wintery night
And the wind blew across the wild moon
When poor Mary came wondering home with a child
Till she came to her own father's door.

"Oh, father, dear father," she cried,
"Come down and open the door,
Or the child in my arms will perish and die
By the winds that blow across the wild moor".

"Oh, why did I leave this fair spot
Where once I was happy and free
I'm now doomed to roam without friends or a home
And no one to take pity on me".

But her father was deaf to her cries
Not a sound of her voice did he hear
Though the watchdog did howl and the village bell 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 morn'
And he found Mary dead but the child still alive
Closely grasping its dead mother's arms.

In anguish he tore his gray hair
While the tears down his cheeks they did pour
When he saw how that night she had perished and died
From the winds that blew across the wild moor.

The old man with grief pined away
And the child to its mother went soon
And no one, they say, has been there till this day
And the cottage to ruin has gone

But the villagers point out the spot
Where the willow droops over the door
Saying "There Mary died, once a gay village bride,
From the winds that blew across the wild moor".

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