And they laid her there, with her soft black hair
Strained back from her dead white brow.
“We will set at her head for a tombstone now
This stone where she kept mad tally!”
But she laughed as she sped from that hill-top bed
And roamed through the wood and the valley ...
“Oh wild blue wings I am free” (sang she)
“Now I own the singing wood and the wood owns me,
Oh the hill-top too and the valley!
They gave back my stone and they’ve left me alone ...