Through generations, the story’s been told
‘bout a soul roaming in a moonless night;
versions vary ‘bout how it did unfold,
but tell they still hear her sorrowful plight.
They say she ended her own life to spite
the lover who coldly betrayed her trust
and hang to her death in a moonless night,
wind’s howling and stirring dry leaves and dust.
Her spirit abounding moans as it must;
folks say she haunts the woods where she perished
they say you can feel a whoosh like a gust
of wind, calling the one she once cherished.

They say on nights when the sky’s black as coal
some claim to have seen her wandering soul.

Carmen Ruggero ©2005