It was not far from the place that I was born
Times were slow I was young
A strange young man lived in our town
We used to call him Scratch
The undertaker's son

Now Scratch was tall and bent like a willow in the wind
He could not speak a single word tho something raged in him
For every night til dawn he'd sit up on Pilgram's Hill
Playing crazed and lonely songs
On his wore out violin

The people of the town would laugh at Scratch with scorn
They could not see the loneliness inside his twisted form
All except for Mercy Shaw who chose to be his friend
She came to him almost every night
Until the autumn's end

One dark night on the cliffs above the town
Mercy went to meet him so the story goes around
Scratch turned round to take her hand
Mercy didn't know
He heard her cry he saw her fall
To the valley far below
And oh the wayward wind
Down in the valley
Sounds like folks are out there cryin'
And oh this helpless feeling deep inside me
A man can only keep on tryin'
To keep from dyin'

You know they looked for Scratch for many nights and days
And tho they could not find him
They say his spirit stays
For every night I hear the wailin' of a violin
I know that it's only lonely Scratch
The under  taker's   son