The Longing Lass

I wish I were in valley far Where heat and sand lie Deep, for there lies down My true love’s heart, in sun And shroud to sleep And when the trumpet hails Good men, and horse from Golden hay; it’s then that We will meet again and Frolic in the bay I wish upon a heart so broke And through an eye so teared, That whispers when the friendly Wind, pass in the valley feared And in this place he left for good Not mention hurt or pain, for true I know when trumpet sounds He’ll lead my horse again