I looked out upon the heather

Across the glen

I narrowed my eyes

Against the crisp blue sky

There in the distance I can see

A mop of red moving closer to me

A fiery temper full of grace

A passion exhibited without disgrace

A woman built for a man to love

Sent to me from the heavens above

The scent of her skin fills my nostrils at night

Her touch insistent but light

Her cries of passion fill the air

As she tosses back and forth her soft red hair

She demands the best that I have to bestow

Holding me close as I slide down below

Pleading for release from her passions intense

I push her over the edge, holding her until she is spent

Over and over I see her in the moonlight

Over and over I dream of her at night

A woman with skin pure and white

With blue eyes soft and light

I dream that I see spread across my bed

Her hair a flowing red

Though she belongs to another and my dream shall never be

I shall go to my grave suffering in piety

Having never know the touch or taste

Of the red headed woman with an angels face