The Ghost of Potter's Ridge

Don't walk, young man, down that dirt path,
don't go 'cross yonder bridge.
Don't sing sweet songs to your young love
on top of Potter's ridge.

A boy did that, they say he did,
about ten year ago.
On Hallowe'en, up Potter's ridge,
his way lit by moonglow.

He took her hand, they say he did,
And 'fessed his endless love.
He broke her heart on Potter's ridge,
the moon shining above.

Don't walk, young man, down that dirt path,
don't go 'cross yonder bridge.
Don't sing sweet songs to your young love
on top of Potter's ridge.

He struck her down, they say he did,
and took her in his hands.
And there, they say, on Potter's Ridge,
she met with his demands.

He ran away, they say he did,
and back across the creek.
And, though returned from Potter's Ridge,
he died within a week.

Don't walk, young man, down that dirt path,
don't go cross yonder bridge.
Don't sing sweet songs to your young love
on top of Potter's Ridge.

He died of fright, they say he did,
of knowing what he'd done.
And there she rots, on Potter's Ridge,
alone, unloved, undone.

And there he made, they say he did,
a girl into a ghost.
And there she waits, on Potter's Ridge,
for him she hates the most.

Don't walk, young man, down that dirt path,
don't go cross yonder bridge.
Don't sing sweet songs to your young love
on top of Potter's Ridge.

On Hallowe'en they say he did,
he killed his lady love.
She lives again, on Potter's Ridge,
the moon shining above.

He struck her down, they say he did,
But there she waits for you.
On Hallowe'en, on Potter's ridge
for any man untrue.

Don't walk, young man, down that dirt path,
don't go cross yonder bridge.
Don't sing sweet songs to your young love
on top of Potter's Ridge.