Down by Blackwater Creek, Hear a voice, singin’ soft and meek. Singin’ hie-dee-hie, and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow… Little Mary Anne, was seven years old, Hair like wheat and eyes like gold. Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow. She skipped her stones, she laughed and played, While the fog crept up through the cedar shade. Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow. From the reeds came a spark of gold, Then two, then ten, then a hundred more, Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow… She followed lights like firefly flame, That whispered softly “Mary Anne” Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow… She followed through the thorn ,and the pines, Past the hollow, and the hangin’ vines, Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow… A ribbon red, a shoe half-torn, And silence till the break of morn. Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow. Singin’ hie-dee-hie and a hie-dee-ho, Where the will-o’-the-wisps glow, You don’t want to go… You don’t… want… to… go…
