by Robert Earl Keen cries Juan Miguel Ramos Montoya led his rebels well We fought them through the emerald valley To the sacred hill In the end we were defeated, I was left for dead Juan Montoya took our city, Angelina fled I took to hiding in the mountains, through the wintertime In the spring I rode to safety across the borderline I sent word to Angelina, soon I will return With the full moon in the window, let your lamplight burn From the bluff above her village My hope has turned to f (allcountrytabs.com)
