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Mary On The Wild Moor (Version #1)
Drop down to: Mary On The Wild Moor (Version #2)

'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."

Mary On The Wild Moor (Version #2)

It was on one cold winter's night,
As the winds blew across the wild Moor,
As poor Mary came wandering home with her child,
Till she came to her own father's door.
Oh, 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 blew 'cross the wild moor.

But her father's deaf to her cries,
Not a sound of her voice did he hear,
Though the watchdog did howl and the village bell tolled,
And the winds blew across the wild moor.
Oh, why did I leave this fair town,
Where once I was happy and free?
I am now doomed to roam without friends or a home,
And no one to take pity on me.

Oh, how the old man must have felt,
When he came to the door the next morn
And found Mary dead, but the child still alive,
Closely clasped in it's dead mother's arms.
In anger he tore his grey hair,
As the tears down his cheeks they did fall,
When he saw how that night she had perished and died,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor.

####.... Author unknown. Variants of a 19th century British broadside ballad [Laws P21] American Balladry From British Broadsides, pp.253-254 (G. Malcolm Laws, 1957). Also variants of Mary Of The Wild Moor!, published by H.F.Sefton (London) 18--, and archived at the Bodleian Broadside Ballads, shelfmark: Firth b.34(229). Also variants of a 19th century British broadside ballad, Poor Mary Of The Wild Moor printed by an unknown publisher sometime between 1850 and 1870, and archived in The Word On The Street, The National Library of Scotland's online collection of broadsides, shelfmark: L.C.Fol.178A.2(072) ....####

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).

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