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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420628" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Skipper Ireson's Ride</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of all the rides since the birth of time,<br>Told in story or sung in rhyme, -<br>On Apuleius' Golden Ass,<br>Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,<br>Witch astride of a human back,<br>Islam's prophet on Al-Borak, -<br>The strangest ride that ever was sped<br>Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead!<br>Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,<br>Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart<br>By the women of Marblehead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Body of turkey, head of owl,<br>Wings a-droop like a rained-on fowl,<br>Feathered and ruffled in every part,<br>Skipper Ireson stood in the cart.<br>Scores of women, old and young,<br>Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue,<br>Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane,<br>Shouting and singing the shrill refrain:<br>'Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,<br>Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt<br>By the women o' Morble'ead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips,<br>Girls in bloom of cheek and lips,<br>Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase<br>Bacchus round some antique vase,<br>Brief of skirt, with ankles bare,<br>Loose of kerchief and loose of hair,<br>With conch-shells blowing and fish-horns' twang,<br>Over and over the Maenads sang:<br>'Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,<br>Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt<br>By the women o' Morble'ead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Small pity for him! - He sailed away<br>From a leaking ship in Chaleur Bay, -<br>Sailed away from a sinking wreck,<br>With his own town's-people on her deck!<br>'Lay by! lay by!' they called to him.<br>Back he answered, 'Sink or swim!<br>Brag of your catch of fish again!'<br>And off he sailed through the fog and rain!<br>Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,<br>Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart<br>By the women of Marblehead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur<br>That wreck shall lie forevermore.<br>Mother and sister, wife and maid,<br>Looked from the rocks of Marblehead<br>Over the moaning and rainy sea, -<br>Looked for the coming that might not be!<br>What did the winds and the sea-birds say<br>Of the cruel captain who sailed away? -<br>Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,<br>Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart<br>By the women of Marblehead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Through the street, on either side,<br>Up flew windows, doors swung wide;<br>Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives gray,<br>Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.<br>Sea-worn grandsires, cripple-bound,<br>Hulks of old sailors run aground,<br>Shook head, and fist, and hat, and cane,<br>And cracked with curses the hoarse refrain:<br>'Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,<br>Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt<br>By the women o' Morble'ead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweetly along the Salem road<br>Bloom of orchard and lilac showed.<br>Little the wicked skipper knew<br>Of the fields so green and the sky so blue.<br>Riding there in his sorry trim,<br>Like an Indian idol glum and grim,<br>Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear<br>Of voices shouting, far and near:<br>'Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd horrt,<br>Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a corrt<br>By the women o' Morble'ead!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Hear me, neighbors!' at last he cried, -<br>'What to me is this noisy ride?<br>What is the shame that clothes the skin<br>To the nameless horror that lives within?<br>Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck,<br>And hear a cry from a reeling deck!<br>Hate me and curse me, - I only dread<br>The hand of God and the face of the dead!'<br>Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,<br>Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart<br>By the women of Marblehead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then the wife of the skipper lost at sea<br>Said, 'God has touched him! why should we!'<br>Said an old wife mourning her only son,<br>'Cut the rogue's tether and let him run!'<br>So with soft relentings and rude excuse,<br>Half scorn, half pity, they cut him loose,<br>And gave him a cloak to hide him in,<br>And left him alone with his shame and sin.<br>Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard heart,<br>Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart<br>By the women of Marblehead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Greenleaf+Whittier">John Greenleaf Whittier</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=420628" data-title="Skipper Ireson's Ride de John Greenleaf Whittier" data-description="Of all the rides since the birth of time,
Told in story or sung in rhyme, -
On Apuleius' Golden Ass,
Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of brass,
Witch astride of a human back,
Islam's prophet on Al-Borak, -
The strangest ride that ever was sped
Was Ire..."></div>
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