Amid the Blue Ridge Mountains there lived a maiden fair 
Whose life was pure as heaven, whose heart was free from care 
She dreamed of love and romance with heart so glad and free 
No bloom within the future young Freda Bolt could see

Nearby lived Dearon Harmond, 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 shining dim
That Dearon called his sweetheart to come and go with him

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He told her on tomorrow that they would surely wed
But little was she thinking he'd take her life instead
They motored to Bent Mountain, a place so dark and lone
And there her form so helpless he placed beneath a stone

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, but heeding not her cry
Young Harmon left his sweetheart in agony to die

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We think the God in heaven must surely heard her cry
And sent a band of angels to linger very nigh
And bear her spirit over to yonder's happy shore
Where dying comes, no, never and parting is no more