At dawn it rained
At night the wind did blow
To turn our sorrow to shame
Our life he drained
And cast us into woe
And held our hopes to the flame
But I see
Hills of clovers
Storms that pass
A man will ride in at dawn
I see
A stoic soldier
In his face
He has protagonist marks
Wild crimes
Have marked this stranger
And wild times have claimed his soul
Wild times
And constant danger
What he walked into
This man does not
This man does not know
At dawn he rode
Into our makeshift town
Just what he knew was unknown
His eyes too dark
His clothes so faded brown
And on his face was the mark
I see
It blowing over
Storms will pass
Where he goes is unharmed
I see
A solemn soldier
In his face
There is no need for alarm
Maybe he'll save us all
Wild crimes
Have marked this stranger
And wild times have claimed his soul
Wild times
And constant danger
What he walked into
This man does not
This man does not know