The Phantom Horseman Poem by Thomas Vaughan Jones

Over the mountain and through the dale,
under a dark and moonless sky;
A sobbing scream, like a banshee's wail.
The phantom horseman's riding by.

Galloping, galloping through the mist,
eyes as red as satanic coal,
Straining to meet an ancient tryst.
Riding to save his long lost soul.

The wraith of a shadow in the night,
seeking to find his golden bride.
His lady's cowl is cold and white
and the love he had has long since died.

Thunder along the Chisholm Trail
The deed is done and the die is cast
He rides like the Devil was on his tail
But he'll never outrun his shameful past.

When first they came to the Golden West
they had high hopes for the life they'd planned;
But he met his fate and failed the test
for the terror he felt in this savage land.

When strangers came to his house one day
he looked on them with a fearful eye;
Then like a coward he ran away,
leaving the girl he loved to die.

With fear an all-consuming flame
he had no strength to help his wife;
The strangers ravaged her feeble frame
and stole her honour then her life.

The terror of her final scream
pleading for help that never came,
Burns in his brain like an awful dream
and his heart is torn and wracked with shame.

Thunder along the Chisholm Trail
The deed is done and the die is cast
He rides like the Devil was on his tail
But he'll never outrun his shameful past.

He rode the plains for many a year
living a life of misery,
With many a heartache, many a tear,
until he came to the hanging tree.

He thought he could leave his shame behind
by ending his sad and feeble life
But the echoes of his poor mad mind
still call in longing for his wife.

Galloping, galloping without end,
and never the touch of a friendly hand,
Or the cheerful voice of a loving friend,
but the whispering hush of the shifting sand.

Over the mountain and through the dale,
under a dark and moonless sky;
A sobbing scream like a banshee's wail,
the phantom horseman's riding by.