Miguel

Never had much to say, he traveled alone with no friends.
Like a shadowy ghost, at dawn he came and he went
through the woodland swiftly gliding to the young maid, he came gliding
where she'd run to meet him by the garden wall.
Oh, my sweet Miguel, I will never tell. No one will ever know what I know too well.

And he'd smile and lay his head on her breast and he'd say, "I have no fear."
They're waiting for me to cross the border, to swim the river but I've done that before
to see my true love's smiling face a hundred times or more.
Oh, my sweet Miguel, she cried, I'll love you till I die.

He was born to the south, in Mexico, they say, the child of a man who had soon gone away.
But his mother loved him dearly and she would take him yearly
to the great cathedral in St. Augustine.
Oh, my young Miguel, listen to the bell of my poverty, you must never tell.

And he cried himself to sleep in the night, and he vowed to make things right.
So he took the gun down from the wall and he paid a call, he knew she'd understand.
A lawman came to capture him, the gun jumped in his hand.
Oh, Miguel, the mother cried, you must run son, or you'll die.

So the story is told of his true love across the line, as strong as the oak and as sweet as the vine.
And the child she bore him came on that fateful morning when they sent him to his final rest.
Oh, my sweet Miguel, listen to the bell. No one will ever know what I know too well.

And she'd smile and lay the child on her breast and she'd say, "I have no fear."
I'm waiting for you to cross the border, to swim the river cause you've done that before
to see your true love's smiling face a hundred times or more.
Oh, my sweet Miguel, she cried, I'll love you till I die.