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The Hills on the Border

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Oh, the hills on the border,
‘Bout this time of the year,
When the mists seem to gather,
In the valley of your fears.

And you walk through that valley,
As day turns to night,
Is there something in the shadows,
Or the failing of the light?

I was walking home last evening,
When perhaps I should have ran,
From a darkening of shadows,
In the shape of a man.

It said, ‘Talk to me stranger,
Or may I call you brother?
Let us make our way together,
From this place to another.

‘I don’t carry any weapon,
I don’t carry any staff,
But I’ll carry half your burden,
‘Til your journey’s cut in half.

‘Let me share of your burden,
The lifetime you will carve,
And the gravestone that you carry
Will be a burden halved.’

He sat down by the roadside,
As the mists they gathered ‘round,
Takes some cards from his pocket,
That he spreads upon the ground.

He said, ‘This card is a woman,
You will love but not possess,
And this card’s a man you’ll murder,
But you’ll never confess.

‘I don’t carry any weapon,
I don’t carry any staff,
But I’ll carry half your burden,
‘Til your journey’s cut in half.

‘Let me share of your burden,
This lifetime you will carve,
And the gravestone that ye carry,
Will be a burden halved.’

I said, ‘Why should I trust ye?
Or the cards that you have thrown?
I don’t know you from the Devil,
And this burden is my own.’

He said, ‘I have the gift of secrets,
From our Father, little brother,
Let us make our way together,
From this world to another.’

Oh, the hills on the border,
‘Bout this time of the year,
When the mists seem to gather,
In the valley of your fears.

And you walk through that valley,
With your coat around your ears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears,
As you walk to the borders,
From the valley of your fears.

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