Amid the Blue Ridge Mountains
There lived a maiden fair
Whose life was pure as heaven
Whose life was free from care
She dreamed of love and romance
With heart so glad and free
No gloom within the future
Young Freda Bolt could see
Nearby lived dear young Harmon
A boy she loved so well
And of these two young lovers
A story I will tell
Twas late one Thursday evening
The stars were shinning dim
That dear one called his sweetheart
To come and go with him
He told her on tomorrow
That they would surely wed
But little was she thinking
He’d take her life instead
They motored to Clinch Mountain
A place so dark and lone
And there her form so helpless
He placed beneath the stones
Away from home and mother
That Freda loved so well
The bitter pain and anguish
No mortal tongue can tell
Through tears she pled for mercy
Though he denied her cry
Young Harmon left his sweetheart
In agony to die
We think that God in heaven
Must surely heard her cry
And sent a band of angels
To linger very nigh
And bare her spirit over
To yonder happy shore
Where dying comes no never
And parting is no more