From a town that folks called Forever, there’s a story as ancient as sin,
A tale of an innocent maiden, and a man, and an old mandolin.
She was a rich man’s daughter as fresh as the morning in May
And he was a silver-haired outlaw, riding by in the heat of the day.
He looked down at her from his saddle and tipped the rim of his hat.
Her heart kicked like a bronco, he smiled and she smiled back.
He gave his horse some water as they sat in the shade of a tree
And he sang to the girl on his old mandolin in a voice that was weary and free.
Time is a hard-ridden pony
And the buzzards are circling above
But no one alive will catch us
For the trail that we’re taking is love.
She could see the best in the outlaw where others just saw the worst.
She could see the child in his sad blue eyes and he saw the woman in hers.
That night while coyotes were howling, by the light of a prairie moon.
She lay in the arms of the outlaw in a room ‘bove the old saloon.
Oh, what a night to remember from a story she’d never been told.
The gift from the silver-haired outlaw was rarer by far than gold.
As he lay there, she traced with her fingers the scars on his leathery skin.
When she slept, she dreamed of freedom and the song of a sweet mandolin.
Time is a hard-ridden pony…etc
When the sun rose in the morning, catching the girl’s golden hair,
She opened her eyes, she was alone – just an old mandolin on a chair.
The rich man was wild in his fury, he rode with the rage of the just, ***
But the silver-haired outlaw had vanished in the heat and the sand and the dust.
At the end of a lane in Forever, they say a candle still burns.
It lights the path to a cottage for when the outlaw returns.
In a rocking-chair, you see her – you can hear a soft mandolin.
And floating across the warm night air, is the song that she likes to sing.
Time is a hard-ridden pony… etc
Terence Blacker – vocals, guitar
Fortunata Monzo – vocals