Down in the valley, valley so low
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow
Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow
Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.

Roses love sunshine, violets love dew
Angels in heaven know I love you
Know I love you, dear, know I love you
Angels in heaven, know I love you.

Writing this letter, containing three lines
Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"
"Will you be mine, dear, will you be mine?"
Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"

Twenty-four years back, two babies were born in the mountains, one girl, one boy. One was never seen outside without the other. The whole town waited eagerly for him to make her a blushing bride. Six years ago, he left for medical school on a full scholarship, breaking her heart.

Before he did, he promised her, in front of the whole town at church one day, that he would come back one day, just for her.

Ever since he left, she's been up in the mountains, coming down after sunset only for supper and to sleep. Her cheeks have lost their pink and her eyes their sparkle. She's grown thin as a stick.

She says he calls with the winds that whisper to the mountains. Her friends went up there one day with her; all they heard was the howling wind. But then he was always loud and rowdy.

She says this was where he first proclaimed his love, where he first kissed her, where he took her virginity. He was a young man; it was only natural he would claim her as early as he could even though he knew no other boy in the village would dare court his girl.

Yesterday an envelope came. It had her name on it, but not the sender's. The postman gave it to her father to give to her at supper. When her father opened it, he discovered a typed letter on a piece of legal paper. It had but three words on it: At the diner.

Tonight her whole family waits in the diner; the rest of the town with them. The rose is back in her cheeks and the sparkle back in her eyes; she knows exactly who sent it.

Her sweetheart from when they toddled in diapers walks in the door. He has a white lab coat on, and a stethoscope about his neck. He walks right up to her, pulls her up from her chair, and kisses her in front of everybody. Everybody becomes silent.

“I told you I'd be back,” he says. “Question for you, love. Will you be mine?” he stage-whispers into her ear.

“I already am, am I not?” she responds, not understanding. He chuckles.

“Will you marry me?” he asks, loud enough for the entire diner to hear without straining their hearing.

“Yes.” He slips a ring onto her finger then kisses her again. The whole town applauds the hero and heroine of their very own fairy tale, the one told to the great-grandchildren.

The wedding is planned for tomorrow morning.