Over hill and over dale,
Through the tempest, wild gale,
The last black horse raced alone
Chased by the man, face so pale.
The night clung heavy, and cold,
Rain, wind, lightning; thunder rolled,
Mane flew, coat as deep blue roan,
Still stalked by the man so bold.
The cliffs loomed up, so deadly,
Unsuspecting, but stead’ly.
The black horse slowed; he had known,
The man knew not, an’ went read’ly.
