A thoroughbred with nostrils flared
and mane blown by the wind,
proudly bore my lady fair
with blue eyes and ivory skin.
Her family and mine were feuding,
and our affair was the greatest sin.
It could not be known to the elders,
or to our next of kin.
Long had we met in the Highlands,
at a meadow above the bay,
and lay there in my cabin,
and loved the night away.
Our need for secrecy thwarted
her being escorted on her ride,
through the hills around my cabin,
and through an untamed countryside.
Although rare and rarely seen,
an occasional Mountain Lion,
would prey upon the horses,
that grazed there from time to time.
Twas at her last departure,
I heard the Lion's scream,
and it bolted the spirited thoroughbred
who fell from the Canyon's Rim.
Overcome with guilt and sorrow ,
I carried her to next of kin,
knowing well that on the morrow,
they would hang me for my sin.
Now the winds up in the Highlands
sing with sad refrain,
they mourn the fate of lovers,
and sigh and sing their name.