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She sat beside an elegant harp of rosewood, tiny beside the magnificent instrument. Her thick, long lashes veiled her eyes, expression unreadable. her dainty fingers plucked the strings gently, expertly, her hands twin butterflies fluttering from string to string. Her soft, pink lips parted as her voice flowed from her heart like honey.

~I sat within the valley green,
I sat me with my true love
With sad heart strove to choose between
The old love and the new love
The old for him and the new that made me
Think on my home dearly
And soft the wind blew down the glade
That shook the golden barley.

Twas hard the woeful words to frame
To break the ties that bind us
But harder still to bear the shame
Of foreign ties around us
And so I said, "The mountain glen
I'll seek at morning early
And join the brave united men,"
While soft wings shook the barley

Twas sad I kissed away his tears
His arms around me flinging
And then I hear that faithful shot
From out the wildwood ringing
The bullet peirced my true loves breast
In life young spring so early
And on my breast in blood he died
While soft winds shook the barley

I bore him to the mountain stream
And many the summers blossom
I placed with branches soft and green
About his gore stained bosom
I wept and kissed his clay cold corpse
Then rushed o'er vale and valley
My vengeance on the foe to wreak
While soft winds shook the barley.

Twas blood for blood without remorse
Ive taken at Oulart Hollow
Ive placed my true love'c clay cold corpse
Where I wished I could soon follow
Around his grave I'll wander drear
Noon, night and morning early
With breaking heart whene'er I hear
The wind that shakes the barley...