one mornin one mornin as work i begun what did i see ridin out of the sun on the road from lexington one rider one rider beatin the breeze down on his saddle low to his knees comin through my willow trees now closer the terrible work of the gun was stiffened and black where his blood all had run but i knew my wayward son one mornin one mornin the boy of my breast came to my door unable to rest even in the arms of death