Winter's Mourning

There was ice on the breeze on the morning she died
There was snow in the trees as the old beggar cried
And he knelt by her grave and he lay by her side
There was ice on the breeze on the morning she died
By the church on the hill, huddles men side by side
While women and children light candles inside
Oh the warmth that they hold fights the chill from their bones
And the beggarman lies wrapped in rags by the road
From the whites of the field springs the wings of a crow
To the heavy grey skies as the mourning bell tolls
Where the whispering of reeds from a frozen lake grow
Stands the ghost of a maid staring out from the snow
And the beggarman bows as he steps by her side
Takes the maid by the hand «will thee dance one last time?»
And they waltzed to the bells, through the fog to the night
There sprung flames by the woods as she led him inside
«Did you live long ago, poor sweet lassie of mine?»
«Now your face I not know, from the cold winds of time»
And the flames how they fade and the air turns to stone
Pray a kiss from your lips 'fore you leave me alone
But the ghost did not speak and the ghost did not smile
In first light of the morn' as the frost gripped his eyes
And the distant church bells shook the wind one last time
There she kissed is clay lips on the morning he died