Young Charlottie lived by the mountain side in a wild and lonely spot,
Not a dwelling house in five miles around except her father's cot;
On many a pleasant winter night young folk would gather there,
Her father kept a social house and she was young and fair.

It was New Year's eve, the sun was low, joy beamed in her bright blue eyes,
As to the window she would go to watch the sleighs pass by;
It was New Year's eve, the sun was down, joy beamed in her bright blue eyes,
She watched until young Charlie's sleigh came swiftly dashing by.

In a village fifteen miles away there's a merry ball tonight,
The air is dreadful, chilly cold but her heart was warm and bright;
"Oh, daughter, dear," the mother said, "this blanket 'round you fold,
'Tis a dreadful night to go abroad, you'll catch your deathly cold."

"Oh, no, oh, no," the daughter said, and she laughed like a gypsy queen,
"To ride in a sleigh all muffled up I never can be seen."
Her cloak and bonnet soon were on, they stepped into the sleigh,
And around the mountain side they went for many miles away.

"Such a night," said Charles, "I never knew, these lines I scarce can hold."
And Charlottie said in a very feeble voice, "I'm growing very cold."
He cracked his whip, he urged his steed much faster than before,
Saying, "It's five long dreadful miles to go and it's o'er ice and snow."

"How fast," said Charles, "the frosty ice keeps gathering on my brow,"
And Charlottie said in a very feeble voice, "I'm growing warmer now."

He drove up to the ballroom door, stepped out and reached his hand,
He asked her once, he asked her twice, he asked her three times o'er,
"Why sit you there like a monument that has no power to move?"
He took her hand in his--Oh, God!--and it was deathly cold.

Young Charles knelt down by her side, the bitter tears did flow,
"My own, my true intended bride, I never more shall know."
He twined his arms about her neck, the bitter tears did flow,
And his thoughts turned back to the place where she said, "I'm growing warmer now."