Cat. #0660 (MFH #676) - As sung by Fred Smith, Bentonville, Arkansas on July 29, 1968
VERSE 1
T'was a dark an' a cold stormy night
As th wind blew across th wild moor
Poor Mary came wandering home with her babe
Till she came to her own Fathers door
VERSE 2
O Father, dear Father, she cried
Come down an' open th door
Or this child in my arms may perish an' die
From th winds that blow 'cross th wild moor
VERSE 3
O, why did I leave this dear spot
Where once I was happy an' free
An' now, forced to roam, without friend or home
And no one to have pity on me
VERSE 4
O Father, dear Father, she cried
Have pity on me, I emplore
For this babe in my arms will perish an' die
From th winds that blow 'crosst th wild moor
VERSE 5
But her Father, so deaf to her cries
Not a sound of her voice reached his door
An' th house dog did bark an' the village bells tolled
An' th wind blew across th wild moor
VERSE 6
O, how must th ole man a felt
When he came to th door in th morn
Poor Mary was dead, but her baby at alive
Closely clasped in its dead Mothers arms
VERSE 7
With frenzy he tore his gray hair
An' th tears down his cheeks they did poured
Saying, here Mary died, once again nearly cried
From th winds th blowed 'crosst th wild moor
VERSE 8
The old man he grieved, pine'd away
An' th babe to its Mother went soon
An' no one, so they say, has lived there to this day
An' th cottage has all gone to ruin
VERSE 9
O, an' th village just passed by this spot
Where th ivy grows over th door
Saying, here Mary died, once a gave th earlage grew
From th winds that blew cross't th wild moor