Ride my yellow mare Down to the station Stand on the platform All sag and warp Wait the train Wait the smoke See the dust See it choke the day See the man Feel the plain See the youth fade He is known as Jones He comes here every year On the selfsame day Few have seen the tear On his face Hold the yellowed letter Gently as I can Read the faded writing >From the girl back East All sweat and hope It says, "I am scared. They still search for you. No more contact. It's the best thing to do. If I come some year soon It will be the tenth of June, My love." See the yellow mare Down by the station Tied to the platform Beneath the big sky All sweat And sleep Prick her ear Blink her eye At the train Rushing by If it stopped Would she shy? But the train Rushes by A woman whispers, "He is known as Jones, he Comes here every year. On the selfsame day. I think this makes the Tenth year."