The Rider
He rides the roads of time
On a steed with lungs of steel
The thundering hoof beats announce his passing
To the tune of a Scottish reel
From where he comes no one seems to know
His destination a mystery as well
His mission is known to only him
And the Rider will never tell
He has ridden these roads for a thousand years
Never pausing or looking back
His cloak is dusty and weather worn
His boots sewn from a great Welsh black
Folklore has it that his love married another
And his heart and spirit were shattered
And so he took flight from Gulvain
Heading where it never mattered
And so still today he rides and rides
Her face he cannot forget
The road and his trusty steed his companions
But ever longing for his Bernadette
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