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It was on one cold and winter's night,
As the winds blew across the wild moor;
As poor Mary came wandering home with her child,
She came to her own father's door.
"Father, dear father," she cried,
"Come down here and open the door;
For the child in my arms, he will perish and die,
From the winds that blow 'cross the wild moor."
But her father was deaf to her cries,
Not a sound of her voice could he hear,
Though the watchdog did howl and the village bell tolled,
As the winds blew across the wild moor.
"Why did I leave this fair spot,
Where I once was happy and free?
Now so long through this land without friends for a home,
And no one who'll take pity on me."
Oh, how the old man must have felt,
As he came to the door the next morn;
When he saw how that night she had perished and died,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor.
With anger he tore his grey hair,
As the tears down his cheeks they did pour,
When he saw how that night she had perished and died,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor.
'Twas all on a cold winter's night,
When the winds blew across the wild moor;
That Mary came wand'ring along with her child,
Till she came to her own father's door.
"O, why did I leave this dear spot,
Where once I was happy and free?
And now doomed to roam without friends or a home,
And none to take pity on me?
"O, father, dear father," she cried,
"Do come downstairs and open the door!
For the child in my arms will perish and 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,
But the watchdog did howl and the village bell tolled,
And the winds blew across the wild moor.
O, how must the old man have felt,
When he came to the door the next morn,
And found Mary dead, but the child was alive,
Closely clasped in its dead mother's arms.
With anguish he tore his gray hair,
While the tears down his cheeks they did roll,
Saying, "There Mary died, once the gay village bride,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor."
The old man with grief pined away,
And the child to its mother went soon;
There's no one, they say, has lived there to this day,
And the cottage to ruin has gone.
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 blew 'cross the wild moor."
A variant was collected by MacEdward Leach [1897-1967] and published as #62, Mary Across the Wild Moor, in Folk Ballads And Songs Of The Lower Labrador Coast (National Museum of Canada, Ottawa, 1965).
A variant was also collected by MacEdward Leach [1897-1967] and published as Mary Of The Wild Moor in The Ballad Book, pp.733-734 (A.S. Barnes, New York, 1955).
Another variant was collected in 1951 from Jim Molloy of St. Shott's, NL, and published as Wind Across The Wild Moor in MacEdward Leach And The Songs Of Atlantic Canada © 2004 Memorial University of Newfoundland Folklore and Language Archive (MUNFLA).
