Where the walker runs down to the Carson Valley Plain,
there lived a maiden, Darcy Farrow was her name.
The daughter of old Dundee, and a fair one was she,
the sweetest flower that bloomed o'er the range.
Her voice was as sweet as sugar candy, her touch was as soft as a bed of goose down.
Her eyes shone bright like the pretty lights that shine in the night out of Yerrington town.
She was courted by young Vandamere. A fine lad was he as I am to hear.
He gave her silver rings and lacy things. She promised to wed before the snows came that year.
But her pony did stumble, and she did fall. Her dying touched the hearts of us one and all.
Young Vandy in his pain put a bullet through his brain,
We buried them together as the snows began to fall.
They sing of Darcy Farrow where the Truckee runs through,
they sing of her beauty in Virginia City, too.
At dusky sundown to her name they drink a round and to young Vandy whose love was true.