Trevor married Sarah in 1853, Rhode Island land and a down east belle from a Brunswick family.
At the meeting hall near Newport town, they were wearing out the floor.
You could hear the strains of coal, the rain, on little Rhodey's shore.
They unfolded life together in two sons laid in half.
Dark eyed and black Irish as the music of their dad.
Sarah slept in a shroud of dreams and the night birds carried on.
Sometimes his fiddle filled the air until the down east dawn.
When autumn fills with colors like the lamplight in your hair.
We'll dance just like we used to at the town hall in the square.
When the harvest moon shines down, I'll hold you to my side.
Oh Sarah, my fair Rhode Isle of pride.
Seven summers passing cast a shadow across the land.
And to volunteer and show no fear was a measure of a man.
Trevor joined the Union boys in spring of 61.
And headed south toward Washington and the meeting at Boron.
When autumn fills with colors like the lamplight in your hair.
We'll dance just like we used to at the town hall in the square.
When the harvest moon shines down, I'll hold you to my side.
Oh Sarah, my fair Rhode Isle of pride.
When the harvest moon shines down, I'll hold you to my side.
Oh Sarah, my fair Rhode Isle of pride.
When the harvest moon shines down, I'll hold you to my side.
. . .
Now the farm is empty and the milkweed's grown up tall.
When Trevor fell the downy spell left some time in the fall.
Time became her greatest friend and her sons grew tall and fine.
In our family there's a violin and a letter left behind.
When autumn fills with colors like the lamplight in your hair.
We'll dance just like we used to at the town hall in the square.
When the harvest moon shines down, I'll hold you to my side.
Oh Sarah, my fair Rhode Isle of pride.
Oh Sarah, my fair Rhode Isle of pride.
. . .