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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

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

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

AND THE LIGHTNING OVERHEAD, SHOWED THE SANDY BED,
THE BOY AND THE PONY LAY.
AN OLD BOUNDARY TROY, WAS THE ONE WHO FOUND THE BOY,
AND WHO TOOK SADLY THE NEXT DAY.
AND THE OLD PEOPLE SAY, OF THE NIGHTS IN MAY,
WHEN THE WIND IN THE ROAMS,
POUNDING HOOF BEATS THAT SOUND, THROUGH THE TALL TIMBER LAND, IS OWN
SADDLE BOY HOME.