It was on a cold winter’s night When the wind blew across the wild moor When poor Mary came wanderin’ home with her child Till she came to her father’s own door 
Oh, why did I leave this fair spot Where once I was happy and free I am now doomed to roam without friends or a home And noone to take pity on me 
Oh father, dear father, she cried Come down and open the door For the child in my arms, it will perish an’ 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 Though the watchdogs 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 clasped in its dead mother’s arms 
In anguish he tore his gray hair And the tears down his cheeks they did pour When he saw how that night she had perished and died From the winds that blow ’cross the wild moor 
The old man with grief pined away An’ the child to its mother went soon And no one, they say, has lived there to this day And the cottage has fallen to ruin 
But 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 blow ’cross the wild moor 
file from: www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
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