She looked upon the window pane

She thought, “At last,” the hours passed

As the sky began to rain

He looked at the moon, so bright

He thought, “Keep running, guns are coming”

As he fled his last flight

She sat alone most of the day

She would not drink, she could not think

As a coming horse said, “Neigh”

She wept all day and all night

She felt all pain, during the rain

As she thought of his last flight

The day arrived, it finally came

He came home, he would not roam

She knew she’d never feel the same

Alas! He left, and then he died

But not before she had a child, sweet and mild

Maybe he’ll grow up to be, the kind of man his father would want him to be,

Maybe, we’ll see