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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

TROUGH THE GREY FROSTY DAWN, COLD WINTER'S MORN,
ROLLED THIS LAD FULL OF AND JOY.
EVERYDAY JUST THE SAME, DOWN THE WHERE HE CAME,
HE WAS KNOWN AS THEIR OWN BOY.
IN HIS YOUTH FREE FROM STRIFE, HE WAS CALLED FROM LIFE,
FROM THE OF LIFE'S HIGHWAY.
HE WAS NEEDED ABOVE AT THE OF LOVE,
FOR THE LAST FINAL OF SOME DAY.
NOW THE SAD WILLOWS ON A COLD SILENT GRAVE,
THE TALL GRASSES BEND AND BOW.
AND THE LAUGH IS THE ONLY EPITAPH,
ON THE GRAVE OF BRAVE SADDLE BOY.

AT THE SCHOOL HOUSE ON THE RISE, TEACHER ALWAYS THE SKIES,
FOR THE STORM CLOUD GROWS LIKE THORN,
A LONG WAY HE SAID, SO YOU'D BETTER GO AHEAD,
SADDLE UP BOY RIDE FOR HOME.
HE HAD TEN TO RIDE, THROUGH THE DARK COUNTRYSIDE,
AS THE STORM ALL AROUND ON.
JUST ONE CREEK TO CROSS, STRUCK BY DRIFTWOOD BOY & HORSE,
SWEPT BY THAT MAD RAGING STORM.

AND THE LIGHTNING OVERHEAD, SHOWED THE LAST BED,
WHERE THE BOY AND THE LAY.
AN OLD BOUNDARY TROY, WAS THE ONE WHO FOUND THE BOY,
AND WHO SADLY MESSAGE THE NEXT DAY.
AND THE OLD SAY, OF THE LONG NIGHTS IN MAY,
THE WIND IN THE VALLEY ROAMS,
POUNDING HOOF BEATS THAT SOUND, THROUGH THE TIMBER LAND, IS THEIR OWN
BOY RIDING HOME.