The wind was a torrent of darkness, among the gusty trees.
The moon was a ghostly galleon, tossed upon a cloudy sea.
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the Malfoy heir came riding,
Riding, riding…
The Malfoy heir came riding, up to the Burrow door.

He'd a hat pulled low on his forehead, and a silver chain at his throat,
A cloak of midnight velvet, and robes of dark grey wool;
They fit with perfect creases, his boots were polished and fine!
And he rode with a subtle twinkle,
His silver chain a-twinkle…
His wand-hilt all a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.

Over the packed earth he clattered, and stopped in the darkened yard,
And he tapped with his wand on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a note to the window, and who should be waiting there?
But the Weasley's brown-eyed daughter,
Ginny, the only daughter…
Plaiting a dark grey love knot into her long red hair.

And dark in the old chicken coop a loose fence-picket creaked,
Where Harry Potter listened, his face was white and peaked;
His green eyes were alive with rage, black hair in disarray,
But he loved the Weasley's daughter,
The Weasley's red-haired daughter…
Cunning as a fox he listened, and heard the pureblood say-

"A kiss for me, my sweetheart, I'll be free tonight,
But I will be back with a golden ring before the morning light;
If they drive me into hiding and track me through the day,
Then wait from me in the moonlight,
Watch for me in the moonlight…
I'll come for you in the moonlight, though Hell should bar the way.

He rose up right in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement, his face burned like a brand,
As a thick red mane of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its locks in the moonlight,
(Oh sweet locks in the moonlight!)
The he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

He did not come in the morning; he did not come at noon;
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A black-cloaked troop came skulking,
Skulking, skulking…
The Dark Lord's men came skulking, up to the Burrow door.

They hexed and bound the Weasleys, and locked them in the shed,
But they gagged their daughter and bound her; to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two then knelt at her window, wands ready at their sides,
And there was death at every window,
Hell at one dark window;
For she could see through the casement, the road that he would ride.

They had tied her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound her hands beside her, but did not take her wand,
"Now keep good watch," and they kissed her
She heard the dead man say –
Wait for me by the moonlight,
Watch for me by the moonlight,
I'll come for thee by the moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

She twisted her hands beside her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers are wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained for her wand, while the hours crawled by like years
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
Her fingers caught the handle; the wand at least was hers!

Her fingers touched the wood, and she strove no more for the rest.
Up, she stood at attention, her wand firm in her hand,
She could not risk them hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.

Tot-a-lot, tot-a-lot, had they heard it? The horse hooves ringing clear.
Tot-a-lot, tot-a-lot, in the distance, were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The Malfoy heir came riding,
Riding, riding…
The Dark Lord's men stood ready! She stood up straight and still!

Tot-a-lot, in the frosty silence! Tot-a-lot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer, her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she clutched the precious wand,
Then scarlet sparks in the moonlight!
A curse rang out in the moonlight!
A green light flashed in the moonlight, and warned him – with her death.

Away, he spurred to the west! He did not know who stood,
Bowed with her head in the casement, her long hair red as blood.
Not till the dawn he heard, his face grew grey to hear
How Ginny the Weasley's daughter,
The Weasley's only daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

Back, he spurred like a madman! Shrieking a curse the sky!
With the white road smoking behind him, and his wand brandished high!
Bright silver his hair in the golden noon; bright black was his velvet cloak,
And they brought him down on the highway,
Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a silver chain at his throat.

And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon, tossed upon a cloudy sea.
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
The Malfoy heir comes riding,
Riding, riding
The Malfoy heir comes riding up to the Burrow door,

Over the packed earth he clatters and stops in the darkened yard,
And he taps with his wand on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a note to the window, and who should be waiting there?
But the Weasley's brown-eyed daughter,
Ginny, the only daughter,
Plaiting a dark grey love-knot into her long red hair…