When the mist's a-rising and the rain is falling and the wind is blowing cold across the moor, I hear the voice of my darling - the girl I loved and lost a year ago - "Johnny, remember me..." Well, it's hard to believe, I know, but I hear her singing in the sighing of the wind blowing in the tree tops way above me - "Johnny, remember me..." Yes, I'll always remember; 'til the day I die, I'll hear her cry, "Oh, Johnny, remember me..."