*RIDE FOR DEAR LIFE. 



Over the moorland the daylight is creeping, 

 Dimly the dawn has crept over the hill ; 



Somebody whispers while others are weeping, 

 " Quick, for God's sake, she is dangerously ill. 



" Ride for the doctor, go round to the stable, 



Take the brown mare, you must ride for dear life, 



Trust to her speed, she is willing and able, 



Haste, you must save her, your beautiful wife." 



Moving mechanically, meekly obeying, 

 Yonder the bridle, the bit and bredoon ; 



Now to the stable, the good mare is neighing, 

 Come to the door, there is light from the moon. 



Over the moorland, away we are speeding, 



Over the moorland we gallantly fly, 

 Quickly the mare shows the worth of her breeding, 



Ride for dear life, or our darling will die. 



B 



