Wake me when the winds that carry
my true love,
Come softly blowing cross
Maple Ridge.
Let me tarry not in fitful
slumber,
Nor close my eyes 'neath
heavy lids.
Rouse me from this dreary
darkness,
When she glides toward where
I rest.
Call to me that I might meet
her,
And take her gently to my
breast.
Keep watch I beg on heavens
above,
Where angels reside 'til set
free.
So that special spirit destined
to appear,
Finds me there on bended
knee. |