Down the night-road somewhere
you would hear a mysterious whisper
when the moon and stars have shut
their eyes in sleep--  not a cloud or vapour

distils the air-- it draws nearer
doesn't it sound familiar?

The trees bow their heads so very low
how they wail,  tremble and shiver
the streams nearby have ceased their usual warble
eerie is the night--how the shadows gather and hover!

Is yours the heart of a true lover
or one of stone that cares never?

Down the night-road somewhere
the voice re-echoes: 'Don't you remember
that road on that certain night
when your love made you falter?'

There you stand still and ponder
and say in pain all over: ' I was the wrongful lover!'