THE RIDER

                  THE RIDER"


 He'll ride In the morning, through the day 
 Travels the road,

 High upon the hills a shadow beneath the clouds, 
 He rides.

 Into the wind, the rain blowing against his face, 
 He rides,

 The snow falls as through the mountain passes 
 He is moving.

 A man with no name, throughout the land maybe 
 A glimpse,

 He's known only as the rider carrying whatever 
 For hire.

 This horse he rides with colors of solid black 
 And white spots,

 A demon creature, wicked with speed like the wind.


 Brown and black hat worn on his head gives a 
 Mysterious appearance,

 A coat so long for cover and warmth shields 
 Him from weather, the rider.

 Boots on his feet of dark, broken In pattern 
 Can be noticed in the stirrups,

 This man of the land rides and rides, just he 
 And his faithful companion.

 Like a ghost so quiet he roams the wild wilderness
 Of life,

 He's known as the rider, Into the night he rides.


                Keith Garrett

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