I heard the wind blowing briskly through the cottonwood trees,
And it sounded as though it were calling, calling to me.
So sad and so lonesome the sound that it makes,
Like a soul wandering aimless by the shores of this misty blue lake.
This misty blue lake out in Arapaho land,
Where I met this young maiden and later asked for her hand.
We planned to marry, but it was not to be,
For her brother only knew hatred and he aimed it at me.
I traded seven ponies and would have given her dad more,
Just to walk hand and hand with my young maiden down misty blue shore.
She was the chiefs daughter, the tribes princess you see,
As lovely as a flower in full bloom, and blooming only for me.
Time went by slowly as preparations were made,
She was so lovely in her doeskin dress and her hair set in braids.
Her eyes twinkled like diamonds as they sparkled at me,
We were both so in love, this even a blind man could see.
The day of the wedding down by the lake,
Standing there in all her beauty was more than my poor heart could take.
As she came to me, her brother from out of nowhere did too,
With a gun in his hand he fired, but his aim was not true.
The bullet it struck her and it took her from me,
As I held her closely she whispered bury me close to that cottonwood tree.
She said when the wind blows my darling, I’ll be calling to you,
Down by the waters of old Misty Blue.
Copyright © Ronald Bingham