"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