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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366048" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wry!</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now girls, you finish your rye and milk, '<br>Tituba said, the slave, <br>The girls had clattered around the house, <br>'You girls, you'd better behave! '<br>She'd laid the table with cheese on rye, <br>With tumblers full of milk, <br>'Now eat your bread like your father said, <br>Or the devil will make you sick! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The winter weather was cold that year, <br>The crops were brought in damp, <br>The miller muttered but said no more, <br>He ground by the midnight lamp, <br>The baker quibbled him over the price, <br>They knew that it wasn't dry, <br>But a wink and a nod to the Money God<br>Said, '...use the tainted rye! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The girls began to suffer fits, <br>They'd crawl around on the floor, <br>They frightened Tituba the slave to bits<br>With the blasphemies they swore, <br>They screamed, began to hallucinate<br>Saw spectres in the air, <br>'It's Sarah Good in a witch's hood, '<br>They screamed, 'but she's not there! ' </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tituba baked up a witch's cake<br>Then fed the cake to a dog, <br>It leapt and staggered and threw it up<br>Then lay like a drunken log, <br>The girls would mutter of witchlike shapes<br>That flew in the winter mist, <br>Then fell to the floor by the kitchen door, <br>Convulsed, in a series of fits! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Tituba, she was arrested there<br>Along with two likely crones, <br>They searched for the witch's marks on them<br>On the poor old women's bones, <br>A taste of the Reverend Parris's whip<br>Saw his old slave confess, <br>That she'd met a hog, or a giant dog<br>And the Devil had done the rest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The girls convulsed, and named the names<br>Of a score of women there, <br>They'd all been seen in their fevered dreams<br>Or as spectres, in the air, <br>The Judges took no time to Judge, <br>But signed each new decree, <br>And a strange new fruit was seen to shoot<br>From the boughs of the gallows tree.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even the Reverend Burroughs fell<br>Accused by the lips of spite, <br>A man of God, he had served them well, <br>But couldn't defend his plight, <br>He stood and recited the Lord, his Prayer, <br>Impossible for a witch, <br>But they strung him up, regardless then, <br>And buried him in a ditch! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">It took the words of a four year old<br>To seal her mother's fate, <br>They fed on the word 'hysteria'<br>Until all they knew was hate, <br>And one old man who refused to plead<br>Was pressed to death by stones, <br>While down at the mill, the race ran still<br>As the miller ground their bones! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'It's a wry old thing, ' the miller said<br>As the death cart passed his mill, <br>And the baker stopped for a friendly pipe<br>By the mill-run water wheel, <br>'But the rye is free of ergot now<br>It's dry, and the wind blows free, <br>Swinging the last eight witches there<br>Under the gallows tree! '</div><div style="margin:10px 0">6 November 2009</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=366048" data-title="Wry! de David Lewis Paget" data-description="'Now girls, you finish your rye and milk, '
Tituba said, the slave, 
The girls had clattered around the house, 
'You girls, you'd better behave! '
She'd laid the table with cheese on rye, 
With tumblers full of milk, 
'Now eat your bread like your..."></div>
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