She was in love with a basket maker of modest means

That was her only crime

Her crime if one may call it a crime

Was that she had rejected all suitors

Much to the displeasure of her parents

Soon this became too much for her

And she escaped to the coast away from her home

Where she prayed to the saints

Asking that her family might accept her one true love

But times were hard and the sun was quite raw

And the unfortunate girl faded and became quite ill

The saints appeared to her in a dream

And told her that she would soon find happiness

But it was too late and she died in the arms of her beloved boy

Her ghost is said to roam the quiet southern roads

And can be heard on summer evenings during the later hours