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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365945" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Grave that I Dug for You!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It was three o'clock in the morning<br>On the final day of spring, <br>I was stuck in a hole in the graveyard<br>Of Saint Matthews, Nether Ling, <br>I like to dig them at nightfall when<br>The folk are home, in bed, <br>Not wandering round the churchyard<br>Making a racket, waking the dead! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's creepy enough as it is, whenever<br>The Moon sails over the church, <br>And shines its beams on the headstones<br>Of Jack Dervish, or Bill Burch, <br>Of mad old Widow Maloney, who, <br>The stories do abound, <br>Was carried kicking and screaming<br>In her coffin, and put in the ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My job is a labour of love, I've lived<br>In this village, all my life, <br>I know each one who lives here, every<br>Mistress, husband and wife, <br>Whenever I dig a grave, I know<br>Exactly who it's for, <br>And shed the bitter, parting tear<br>For the ones who go before.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've even dug for my own, my<br>Darling mother, and my dad, <br>They left on that last long journey when<br>I was but still a lad, <br>The Vicar made me the Sexton, so<br>That I could earn my keep, <br>Living alone in the cottage, ghosts<br>Would haunt me in my sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I often manage an extra grave, <br>That I dig by the iron fence, <br>All overhung with the creepers, that<br>I buy, for Peter's Pence, <br>They're there for the poor and needy who<br>Can't manage a burial fee, <br>So I carry the bodies at midnight, drop<br>Them in, all buried for free! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I always attend the services, <br>And stand right up at the back, <br>And that's where I first saw Caroline, <br>My love, my Caroline Black, <br>She went to her brother's funeral<br>With veil, and covered in lace, <br>But the wind blew up as she left, and then<br>I saw sweet Caroline's face.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I fell; I saw and was smitten, <br>She had given me half a smile, <br>I felt so bold as to ask her if<br>I could walk with her, for a while.<br>We went some way, she held my hand<br>And she looked me, square in the eye, <br>‘What would you say if I told you that<br>My mother's about to die? '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It seemed that her mother had cancer, <br>So she told me, with a tear, <br>They'd told her mother three months ago<br>She wouldn't live out the year, <br>She lived way up on the hillside there<br>In the mansion called ‘Beau Clair', <br>I thought that she must have money<br>But she said - ‘The cupboard is bare! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The money they'd paid for the funeral<br>Of her brother had been the last, <br>Her father had gone some years ago, <br>And had left them little cash, <br>‘How will I bury my mother, ' Caroline<br>Cried, as women will do, <br>‘Now don't you fret, ' I assured her, <br>I have a grave I've dug for you! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The mother died the following week, <br>The doctor had thought it strange, <br>He'd given the mother a bill of health<br>To last to a ripe old age, <br>The coroner was quite upset<br>When he found how the woman died, <br>It seemed the autopsy findings showed<br>Her full of insecticide.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The brother was raised at once, I know, <br>I dug him up in the night, <br>Surrounded by Sheriff's officers<br>Who carried a lantern light, <br>They found the same insecticide<br>Had seeped right into his bones, <br>And Caroline went on trial that day<br>In spite of her sobs, and moans.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I saw her once, right after the trial <br>When the judge put on his hat, <br>That little black square of portent<br>That had sentenced Caroline Black.<br>He'd said: ‘You shall be hanged by the neck, <br>Pray God for your soul to save, <br>Your crimes are the crimes of parricide, <br>They will follow you, into the grave! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They let me into the holding cell<br>As she waited to be sent down, <br>So pale and brave now the deed was done<br>Though she kept her eyes on the ground.<br>‘If only…' I had begun to say, <br>But she stayed me: ‘What can you do? '<br>‘I can keep you warm, and comfortable, <br>In the grave that I dug for you! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">9 September 2012</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365945" data-title="The Grave that I Dug for You! de David Lewis Paget" data-description="It was three o'clock in the morning
On the final day of spring, 
I was stuck in a hole in the graveyard
Of Saint Matthews, Nether Ling, 
I like to dig them at nightfall when
The folk are home, in bed, 
Not wandering round the churchyard
Making a r..."></div>
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