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,
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
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
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
Like a ghost so quiet, he roams the wild wilderness
He's known as the rider, Into the night he rides.