"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