The Cross Roads; Or, The Haymaker's Story
Stopt by the storm, that long in sullen black
From the south-west stained its encroaching track,
Haymakers, hustling from the rain to hide,
Sought the grey willows by the pasture-side;
And there, while big drops bow the grassy stems,
And bleb the withering hay with pearly gems,
Dimple the brook, and patter in the leaves,
The song or tale an hour's restraint relieves.
And while the old dames gossip at their ease,
And pinch the snuff-box empty by degrees,
The young ones join in love's delightful themes,
Truths told by gipsies, and expounded dreams;
And mutter things kept secrets from the rest,
As sweethearts' names, and whom they love the best;
And dazzling ribbons they delight to show,
And last new favours of some veigling beau,
Who with such treachery tries their hearts to move,
And, like the highest, bribes the maidens' love.
The old dames, jealous of their whispered praise,
Throw in their hints of man's deluding ways;
And one, to give her counsels more effect,
And by example illustrate the fact
Of innocence oercome by flattering man,
Thrice tapped her box, and pinched, and thus began.
'Now wenches listen, and let lovers lie,
Ye'll hear a story ye may profit by;
I'm your age treble, with some oddments to't,
And right from wrong can tell, if ye'll but do't:
Ye need not giggle underneath your hat,
Mine's no joke-matter, let me tell you that;
So keep ye quiet till my story's told,
And don't despise your betters cause they're old.
'That grave ye've heard of, where the four roads meet,
Where walks the spirit in a winding-sheet,
Oft seen at night, by strangers passing late,
And tarrying neighbours that at market wait,
Stalking along as white as driven snow,
And long as one's shadow when the sun is low;
The girl that's buried there I knew her well,
And her whole history, if ye'll hark, can tell.
Her name was Jane, and neighbour's children we,
And old companions once, as ye may be;
And like to you, on Sundays often strolled
To gipsies' camps to have our fortunes told;
And oft, God rest her, in the fortune-book
Which we at hay-time in our pockets took,
Our pins at blindfold on the wheel we stuck,
When hers would always prick the worst of luck;
For try, poor thing, as often as she might,
Her point would always on the blank alight;
Which plainly shows the fortune one's to have,
As such like go unwedded to the grave,--
And so it proved.--The next succeeding May,
We both to service went from sports and play,
Though in the village still; as friends and kin
Thought neighbour's service better to begin.
So out we went:--Jane's place was reckoned good,
Though she bout life but little understood,
And had a master wild as wild can be,
And far unfit for such a child as she;
And soon the whisper went about the town,
That Jane's good looks procured her many a gown
From him, whose promise was to every one,
But whose intention was to wive with none.
Twas nought to wonder, though begun by guess;
For Jane was lovely in her Sunday dress,
And all expected such a rosy face
Would be her ruin--as was just the case.
The while the change was easily perceived,
Some months went by, ere I the tales believed;
For there are people nowadays, Lord knows,
Will sooner hatch up lies than mend their clothes;
And when with such-like tattle they begin,
Don't mind whose character they spoil a pin:
But passing neighbours often marked them smile,
And watched him take her milkpail oer a stile;
And many a time, as wandering closer by,
From Jenny's bosom met a heavy sigh;
And often marked her, as discoursing deep,
When doubts might rise to give just cause to weep,
Smothering their notice, by a wished disguise
To slive her apron corner to her eyes.
Such signs were mournful and alarming things,
And far more weighty than conjecture brings;
Though foes made double what they heard of all,
Swore lies as proofs, and prophesied her fall.
Poor thoughtless wench! it seems but Sunday past
Since we went out together for the last,
And plain enough indeed it was to find
She'd something more than common on her mind;
For she was always fond and full of chat,
In passing harmless jokes bout beaus and that,
But nothing then was scarcely talked about,
And what there was, I even forced it out.
A gloomy wanness spoiled her rosy cheek,
And doubts hung there it was not mine to seek;
She neer so much as mentioned things to come,
But sighed oer pleasures ere she left her home;
And now and then a mournful smile would raise
At freaks repeated of our younger days,
Which I brought up, while passing spots of ground
Where we, when children, 'hurly-burlied' round,
Or 'blindman-buffed' some morts of hours away--
Two games, poor thing, Jane dearly loved to play.
She smiled at these, but shook her head and sighed
When eer she thought my look was turned aside;
Nor turned she round, as was her former way,
To praise the thorn, white over then with May;
Nor stooped once, though thousands round her grew,
To pull a cowslip as she used to do:
For Jane in flowers delighted from a child--
I like the garden, but she loved the wild--
And oft on Sundays young men's gifts declined,
Posies from gardens of the sweetest kind,
And eager scrambled the dog-rose to get,
And woodbine-flowers at every bush she met.
The cowslip blossom, with its ruddy streak,
Would tempt her furlongs from the path to seek;
And gay long purple, with its tufty spike,
She'd wade oer shoes to reach it in the dyke;
And oft, while scratching through the briary woods
For tempting cuckoo-flowers and violet buds,
Poor Jane, I've known her crying sneak to town,
Fearing her mother, when she'd torn her gown.
Ah, these were days her conscience viewed with pain,
Which all are loth to lose, as well as Jane.
And, what I took more odd than all the rest,
Was, that same night she neer a wish exprest
To see the gipsies, so beloved before,
That lay a stone's throw from us on the moor:
I hinted it; she just replied again--
She once believed them, but had doubts since then.
And when we sought our cows, I called, 'Come mull!'
But she stood silent, for her heart was full.
She loved dumb things: and ere she had begun
To milk, caressed them more than eer she'd done;
But though her tears stood watering in her eye,
I little took it as her last good-bye;
For she was tender, and I've often known
Her mourn when beetles have been trampled on:
So I neer dreamed from this, what soon befell,
Till the next morning rang her passing-bell.
My story's long, but time's in plenty yet,
Since the black clouds betoken nought but wet;
And I'll een snatch a minute's breath or two,
And take another pinch, to help me through.
'So, as I said, next morn I heard the bell,
And passing neighbours crossed the street, to tell
That my poor partner Jenny had been found
In the old flag-pool, on the pasture, drowned.
God knows my heart! I twittered like a leaf,
And found too late the cause of Sunday's grief;
For every tongue was loosed to gabble oer
The slanderous things that secret passed before:
With truth or lies they need not then be strict,
The one they railed at could not contradict.
Twas now no secret of her being beguiled,
For every mouth knew Jenny died with child;
And though more cautious with a living name,
Each more than guessed her master bore the blame.
That very morning, it affects me still,
Ye know the foot-path sidles down the hill,
Ignorant as babe unborn I passed the pond
To milk as usual in our close beyond,
And cows were drinking at the water's edge,
And horses browsed among the flags and sedge,
And gnats and midges danced the water oer,
Just as I've marked them scores of times before,
And birds sat singing, as in mornings gone,--
While I as unconcerned went soodling on,
But little dreaming, as the wakening wind
Flapped the broad ash-leaves oer the pond reclin'd,
And oer the water crinked the curdled wave,
That Jane was sleeping in her watery grave.
The neatherd boy that used to tend the cows,
While getting whip-sticks from the dangling boughs
Of osiers drooping by the water-side,
Her bonnet floating on the top espied;
He knew it well, and hastened fearful down
To take the terror of his fears to town,--
A melancholy story, far too true;
And soon the village to the pasture flew,
Where, from the deepest hole the pond about,
They dragged poor Jenny's lifeless body out,
And took her home, where scarce an hour gone by
She had been living like to you and I.
I went with more, and kissed her for the last,
And thought with tears on pleasures that were past;
And, the last kindness left me then to do,
I went, at milking, where the blossoms grew,
And handfuls got of rose and lambtoe sweet,
And put them with her in her winding-sheet.
A wilful murder, jury made the crime;
Nor parson 'lowed to pray, nor bell to chime;
On the cross roads, far from her friends and kin,
The usual law for their ungodly sin
Who violent hands upon themselves have laid,
Poor Jane's last bed unchristian-like was made;
And there, like all whose last thoughts turn to heaven,
She sleeps, and doubtless hoped to be forgiven.
But, though I say't, for maids thus veigled in
I think the wicked men deserve the sin;
And sure enough we all at last shall see
The treachery punished as it ought to be.
For ere his wickedness pretended love,
Jane, I'll be bound, was spotless as the dove,
And's good a servant, still old folks allow,
As ever scoured a pail or milked a cow;
And ere he led her into ruin's way,
As gay and buxom as a summer's day:
The birds that ranted in the hedge-row boughs,
As night and morning we have sought our cows,
With yokes and buckets as she bounced along,
Were often deafed to silence with her song.
But now she's gone:--girls, shun deceitful men,
The worst of stumbles ye can fall agen;
Be deaf to them, and then, as twere, ye'll see
Your pleasures safe as under lock and key.
Throw not my words away, as many do;
They're gold in value, though they're cheap to you.
And husseys hearken, and be warned from this,
If ye love mothers, never do amiss:
Jane might love hers, but she forsook the plan
To make her happy, when she thought of man.
Poor tottering dame, it was too plainly known,
Her daughter's dying hastened on her own,
For from the day the tidings reached her door
She took to bed and looked up no more,
And, ere again another year came round,
She, well as Jane, was laid within the ground;
And all were grieved poor Goody's end to see:
No better neighbour entered house than she,
A harmless soul, with no abusive tongue,
Trig as new pins, and tight's the day was long;
And go the week about, nine times in ten
Ye'd find her house as cleanly as her sen.
But, Lord protect us! time such change does bring,
We cannot dream what oer our heads may hing;
The very house she lived in, stick and stone,
Since Goody died, has tumbled down and gone:
And where the marjoram once, and sage, and rue,
And balm, and mint, with curled-leaf parsley grew,
And double marygolds, and silver thyme,
And pumpkins neath the window used to climb;
And where I often when a child for hours
Tried through the pales to get the tempting flowers,
As lady's laces, everlasting peas,
True-love-lies-bleeding, with the hearts-at-ease,
And golden rods, and tansy running high
That oer the pale-tops smiled on passers-by,
Flowers in my time that every one would praise,
Though thrown like weeds from gardens nowadays;
Where these all grew, now henbane stinks and spreads,
And docks and thistles shake their seedy heads,
And yearly keep with nettles smothering oer;--
The house, the dame, the garden known no more:
While, neighbouring nigh, one lonely elder-tree
Is all that's left of what had used to be,
Marking the place, and bringing up with tears
The recollections of one's younger years.
And now I've done, ye're each at once as free
To take your trundle as ye used to be;
To take right ways, as Jenny should have ta'en,
Or headlong run, and be a second Jane;
For by one thoughtless girl that's acted ill
A thousand may be guided if they will:
As oft mong folks to labour bustling on,
We mark the foremost kick against a stone,
Or stumble oer a stile he meant to climb,
While hind ones see and shun the fall in time.
But ye, I will be bound, like far the best
Love's tickling nick-nacks and the laughing jest,
And ten times sooner than be warned by me,
Would each be sitting on some fellow's knee,
Sooner believe the lies wild chaps will tell
Than old dames' cautions, who would wish ye well:
So have your wills.'--She pinched her box again,
And ceased her tale, and listened to the rain,
Which still as usual pattered fast around,
And bowed the bent-head loaded to the ground;
While larks, their naked nest by force forsook,
Pruned their wet wings in bushes by the brook.
The maids, impatient now old Goody ceased,
As restless children from the school released,
Right gladly proving, what she'd just foretold,
That young ones' stories were preferred to old,
Turn to the whisperings of their former joy,
That oft deceive, but very rarely cloy.
poem by John Clare
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Jane's Marriage
Jane went to Paradise:
That was only fair.
Good Sir Walter followed her,
And armed her up the stair.
Henry and Tobias,
And Miguel of Spain,
Stood with Shakespeare at the top
To welcome Jane--
Then the Three Archangels
Offered out of hand
Anything in Heaven's gift
That she might command.
Azrael's eyes upon her,
Raphael's wings above,
Michael's sword against her heart,
Jane said: "Love."
Instantly the under-
Standing Seraphim
Laid their fingers on their lips
And went to look for him.
Stole across the Zodiac,
Harnessed Charles's Wain,
And whispered round the Nebulae
"Who loved Jane?"
In a private limbo
Where none had thought to look,
Sat a Hampshire gentleman
Reading of a book.
It was called Persuasion
And it told the plain
Story of the love between
Him and Jane.
He heard the question,
Circle Heaven through--
Closed the book and answered:
"I did -- and do!"
Quietly but speedily
(As Captain Wentworth moved)
Entered into Paradise
The man Jane loved!
Jane lies in Winchester, blessed be her shade!
Praise the Lord for making her, and her for all she made.
And while the stones of Winchester--or Milson Street--remain,
Glory, Love, and Honour unto England's Jane!
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet Jane
Standin' on the corner, suit case in my hand, Jack is in his coat, Jane is in her vest, and, me, I'm in a rock 'n' roll band. Riding in a Stutz-Bearcat, Jim. Ya know, those were different times. The poets, they studied rules of verse, and the ladies, they rolled their eyes.Sweet Jane! Sweet Jane! Sweet Jane!
Now, Jack, he is a banker, and Jane, she is a clerk. Both of them save their monies, when they come home from work. Sittin' down there by the fire, the radio does play. The classic music is, "The March of Wooden Soldiers", and you can heard Jack say, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane.
Some people like to go out dancin'. Now other people they go to work. There's even some evil mothers, they'll tell you life's just made out of dirt.That women, they never really faint, and villains always blink their eyes.That childeren are the only ones who blush, and life is just to die. That every one who ever had a heart...that wouldn't turn round and break it, anyone that played a part, whooa, and wouldn't turn round and hate it.Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane, Sweet Jane.
Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane) Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane)...Sweet Jane! (Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane)...(Sweet Jane).
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mary Jane
Now when I go to work, I work all day,
Always turns out the same.
When I bring home my hard-earned pay
I spend my money all on mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Oh if a man should look tame now, mean and mature,
They all turn out the same.
cause they cant do nothing to make a man feel good
Like my old mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Now I walk in the street now lookin for a friend
One that can lend me some change.
And he never questions my reason why,
cause he too loves mary jane.
Mary jane, mary jane, lord, my mary jane.
Well, I have known women that wanted no man,
Some that wanted to stay.
But I never knew what happened in this world
Till I met up with mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
Oh, when Im feelin lonesome and Im feelin blue,
Theres only one way to change.
Now I walk down the street now lookin for a man,
One that knows my mary jane,
Mary jane, mary jane, lord my mary jane.
song performed by by Janis Joplin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Repentance And Reconciliation
JANE.
Mamma is displeased and looks very grave,
And I own, brother, I was to blame
Just now when I told her I wanted to have,
Like Miss Lydia, a very fine name.
'Twas foolish, for, Robert, Jane sounds very well,
When mamma says, 'I love my good Jane.'
I've been lately so naughty, I hardly can tell
If she ever will say so again.
ROBERT.
We are each of us foolish, and each of us young,
And often in fault and to blame.
Jane, yesterday I was too free with my tongue,
I acknowledge it now to my shame.
For a speech in my good mother's hearing I made,
Which reflected upon her whole sex;
And now like you, Jenny, I am much afraid
That this might my dear mother vex.
JANE.
But yet, brother Robert, 'twas not quite so bad
As that naughty reflection of mine,
When I grumbled because Liddy Bellenger had
Dolls and dresses expensive and fine.
For then 'twas of her, her own self, I complained;
Since mamma does provide all I have.
MOTHER.
Your repentance, my children, I see is unfeigned,
You are now my good Robert, and now my good Jane;
And if you will never be naughty again,
Your fond mother will never look grave.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Plain Jane
Ah, tell 'em about it Darlin'.
Here we go.
She's a waitress at her corner,
Always dancin' nine-to-five.
Well, she ain't no supermodel,
But I'm here to tell you, she's fine, (Ha, ha.)
She's so fine, Johnny.
She's like the classic girl next door,
There's somethin' 'bout her walk:
There's somethin' that goes off inside,
Each time she starts to talk.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane.
She always gets my business,
I can't wait to ring her bell.
(Ah, I bet you can't Donnie.)
She puts a quarter in the jukebox:
Says she don't kiss an' tell.
Is that right, brother.
The way she wears that dress, (Yeah.)
It's time that I confess:
The music starts an' my heart stops,
An' I become a mess.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane.
Nothin' fancy: she's just got everything.
She's so addicting; she's so amazing:
Can't think of anything.
Do, do, do do.
(Whoa, talk to me, plain Jane.)
Do, do, do do, do, do.
Whoa, yeah,
C'mon.
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She's my plain Jane. (Jane, Jane.)
Plain Jane,
Oh, I love her name.
She drives me insane.
She said just call me plain Jane.
(That's right, buddy."
Plain Jane,
She's my plain Jane.
She's my plain Jane.
She's my plain, (Jane)
Whoo, she's my plain Jane.
(No, she's mine.)
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane
Jane you say its all over for you and me girl
Theres a time for love and a time for letting it be baby
Jane youre playing a game called, called hard to get by its real name,
Making believe that you just dont feel the same. oh jane
Jane youre playing a game you never can win girl
Youre staying away so Ill ask you where you been baby
Like a cat and a mouse, (cat and a mouse) from door to door and house to house
Dont you pretend you dont know what Im talking about
Were all those nights we spent together, hey hey
Only because you didnt know better, I gotta know
Jane, youre playin a game, playin a game, playin a game
(jane, jane, jane)
Ah jane youre playing a game of hide and go seek
Jane youre playing for fun but I play for keeps, yes I do
(jane, jane, jane) thats a game on me
(jane, jane, jane) so plain to see
Janey jane why you foolin with me
(jane, jane, jane)
song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Down In The Alley
(words & music by j. stone & the clovers)
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Down in the alley, just you and me
Were going bowlin till half past three
Just rockin and reelin, well get that feelin
Down in the alley, oh baby gee
I wake you now and dig you later
cause youre a fine sweet potato
Well have a ball and that aint all
Down in the alley, just you and me
The clock is striking a mournful sound
This time of evening my love comes down
Thats when Im missin your kind of kissin
Down in the alley, thats where Ill be
Down in the alley, we sure have fun
We just get started bout half past one
So if youre round just come on down
Down in the alley and you will see
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane jane
Janie, janie, janie, janie, jane
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Salvation Jane
One chain to the mountain
Two feet in the chain
Three fires approaching
Four hours away
A sol invictus the invicible sun
The night is almost come
Five times the assassin
Six species destroyed
Seven valleys are numbered
Eight years till they're gone
Just when I thought
I'd die on this rock
I see a face I know
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
Salvation Jane
You've got the power to change
You're such an easy prey
Nine times the protector
Ten years and a day
Eleventh hour we're facing
Twelve o'clock in the sun
Oh mother nature
We're trying to kill you
Such greedy fools
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
You've got the power to change
You're such an easy prey
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
Salvation Jane
You've got the power to change
You're such an easy prey
Thirteen grand designs
Fourteen you're walking the wire
Fifteen is when you're lonely
Sixteen is a long way there
Seventeen is a whisper
Eighteen is a whirl
Nineteen is a mother
Twenty minutes ago
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
Salvation Jane
Wild wild flower of love
Salvation Jane
You've got the power of love
Salvation Jane
You've got the power to change
You're such an easy prey
Salvation
Salvation
Salvation
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Little Liza Jane
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute I'll get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
What's wrong with you what is it you want
Can't forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad it's called Little Liza Jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
I got a beau you ain't got none Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Hambone Hammer where you've been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man that's three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
the bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Lisa Jane Jane Little Liza
Little Liza Jean Little Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
Oh Little Liza Liza Jane oh Little Liza Liza Jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intro/sweet Jane
Standing on the corner
Suitcase in my hand
Jacks in his corset, jane is in her vest
Me, honey, Im in a rock n roll band
Ridin in a stutz bearcat, jim
Those were different times
They studied rules of verse
And those ladies they rolled their eyes
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Jack, he is a banker
Jane, she is a clerk
Both of them save their money
When they come home from work
Sittin by the fire
Radio does play, look classical music there, kids
The march of the wooden soldiers
You can hear jack say
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Some people like to go out dancing
And other people like us, we gotta work
And theres even some evil mothers
Theyll tell you that life is just made out of dirt
And women never really faint
All the villains always blink their eyes
That children are the only ones who blush
And life is just to die
Anyone who ever had a heart
And wouldnt turn around and break it
Anyone who ever played a part
And wouldnt turn around and hate it
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Sweet jane
Sweet jane, sweet jane
Sweet jane, oh honey, sweet jane
Sweet jane, oh, sweet jane
Sweet jane, sweet jane
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jane
Jane you say its all over for you and me
Theres a time for love and a time for letting it be baby
Jane youre playin a game
Called hard to get by its real name
Makin believe that you still dont feel the same
Jane youre playin a game you never can win girl
Youre stayin away just so Ill ask you where youve been baby
Like a cat and a mouse (cat and a mouse)
From door to door and house to house
Dont you pretend you dont know what Im talkin about
Were all those nights we spent together (hey hey)
Only because you didnt know better
Oh jane youre playin a game, youre playin a game, playin a game
Jane youre playin a game of hide and go seek
Jane youre playin for fun but I play for keeps (yes I do)
Oh jane thats a game on me
Oh jane thats so plain to see
Jane jane jane
(jane jane jane)...
song performed by by Jefferson Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Eclogues II - The Grandmother's Tale
JANE.
Harry! I'm tired of playing. We'll draw round
The fire, and Grandmamma perhaps will tell us
One of her stories.
HARRY.
Aye--dear Grandmamma!
A pretty story! something dismal now;
A bloody murder.
JANE.
Or about a ghost.
GRANDMOTHER.
Nay, nay, I should but frighten you. You know
The other night when I was telling you
About the light in the church-yard, how you trembled
Because the screech-owl hooted at the window,
And would not go to bed.
JANE.
Why Grandmamma
You said yourself you did not like to hear him.
Pray now! we wo'nt be frightened.
GRANDMOTHER.
Well, well, children!
But you've heard all my stories. Let me see,--
Did I never tell you how the smuggler murdered
The woman down at Pill?
HARRY.
No--never! never!
GRANDMOTHER.
Not how he cut her head off in the stable?
HARRY.
Oh--now! do tell us that!
GRANDMOTHER.
You must have heard
Your Mother, children! often tell of her.
She used to weed in the garden here, and worm
Your uncle's dogs, and serve the house with coal;
And glad enough she was in winter time
To drive her asses here! it was cold work
To follow the slow beasts thro' sleet and snow,
And here she found a comfortable meal
And a brave fire to thaw her, for poor Moll
Was always welcome.
HARRY.
Oh--'twas blear-eyed Moll
The collier woman,--a great ugly woman,
I've heard of her.
GRANDMOTHER.
Ugly enough poor soul!
At ten yards distance you could hardly tell
If it were man or woman, for her voice
Was rough as our old mastiff's, and she wore
A man's old coat and hat,--and then her face!
There was a merry story told of her,
How when the press-gang came to take her husband
As they were both in bed, she heard them coming,
Drest John up in her night-cap, and herself
Put on his clothes and went before the Captain.
JANE.
And so they prest a woman!
GRANDMOTHER.
'Twas a trick
She dearly loved to tell, and all the country
Soon knew the jest, for she was used to travel
For miles around. All weathers and all hours
She crossed the hill, as hardy as her beasts,
Bearing the wind and rain and winter frosts,
And if she did not reach her home at night
She laid her down in the stable with her asses
And slept as sound as they did.
HARRY.
With her asses!
GRANDMOTHER.
Yes, and she loved her beasts. For tho' poor wretch
She was a terrible reprobate and swore
Like any trooper, she was always good
To the dumb creatures, never loaded them
Beyond their strength, and rather I believe
Would stint herself than let the poor beasts want,
Because, she said, they could not ask for food.
I never saw her stick fall heavier on them
Than just with its own weight. She little thought
This tender-heartedness would be her death!
There was a fellow who had oftentimes,
As if he took delight in cruelty.
Ill-used her Asses. He was one who lived
By smuggling, and, for she had often met him
Crossing the down at night, she threatened him,
If he tormented them again, to inform
Of his unlawful ways. Well--so it was--
'Twas what they both were born to, he provoked her,
She laid an information, and one morn
They found her in the stable, her throat cut
From ear to ear,'till the head only hung
Just by a bit of skin.
JANE.
Oh dear! oh dear!
HARRY.
I hope they hung the man!
GRANDMOTHER.
They took him up;
There was no proof, no one had seen the deed,
And he was set at liberty. But God
Whoss eye beholdeth all things, he had seen
The murder, and the murderer knew that God
Was witness to his crime. He fled the place,
But nowhere could he fly the avenging hand
Of heaven, but nowhere could the murderer rest,
A guilty conscience haunted him, by day,
By night, in company, in solitude,
Restless and wretched, did he bear upon him
The weight of blood; her cries were in his ears,
Her stifled groans as when he knelt upon her
Always he heard; always he saw her stand
Before his eyes; even in the dead of night
Distinctly seen as tho' in the broad sun,
She stood beside the murderer's bed and yawn'd
Her ghastly wound; till life itself became
A punishment at last he could not bear,
And he confess'd it all, and gave himself
To death, so terrible, he said, it was
To have a guilty conscience!
HARRY.
Was he hung then?
GRANDMOTHER.
Hung and anatomized. Poor wretched man,
Your uncles went to see him on his trial,
He was so pale, so thin, so hollow-eyed,
And such a horror in his meagre face,
They said he look'd like one who never slept.
He begg'd the prayers of all who saw his end
And met his death with fears that well might warn
From guilt, tho' not without a hope in Christ.
poem by Robert Southey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Little Liza Jean
Traditional
Where is my tambourine wait a minute Ill get your tambourine
Got my tambourine get your thing baby
Whats wrong with you what is it you want
Cant forget my tambourine boy want a minute
This is a folk tune nad its called little liza jane
We get some rhythm started here and see what happens
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
I got a beau you aint got none little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Come my love and live with me
I will take good care of thee little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Hambone hammer where youve been
Down by the river making gin
I know a man thats three feet tall
Drink his liquor and has a ball
Saw him just the other day
He had a horse and a ball of hay
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
He took me to his great big town
Lots of people standing around
They were listening to a great big band
The bestest music in the land
I tell you once and tell you twice
Enjoy yourself and live your life
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little lisa jane jane little liza
Little liza jean little liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
Oh little liza liza jane oh little liza liza jean
song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lana Jane
Every boy loved her- Lana Jane,
And who could blame them? She was fair,
Of perfect form and beauty rare,
But none could have her, Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
And he no man to barter.
For he would take poor Lana Jane
To sea, and she would stay the boat
When harbored; thus, a dreadful moat
Would bar the way to Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
But he refused to barter.
In fourteen years, sweet Lana Jane,
Was never seen upon the shore
Among the boys who wanted more
Than life to see their Lana Jane,
The fisherman’s only daughter,
Whose father ne'er would barter.
The legend grew of Lana Jane,
While scores of ports, legions of ships
Claimed: “She’s aboard! ” through whispered lips,
“The rarest beauty, Lana Jane,
“The fisherman’s only daughter.
“She's yours to see. Let's barter! ”
The Grandmother
I.
And Willy, my eldest-born, is gone, you say, little Anne?
Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man.
And Willy's wife has written: she never was over-wise,
Never the wife for Willy: he would n't take my advice.
II.
For, Annie, you see, her father was not the man to save,
Had n't a head to manage, and drank himself into his grave.
Pretty enough, very pretty! but I was against it for one.
Eh!--but he would n't hear me--and Willy, you say, is gone.
III.
Willy, my beauty, my eldest-born, the flower of the flock;
Never a man could fling him: for Willy stood like a rock.
`Here's a leg for a babe of a week!' says doctor; and he would be bound,
There was not his like that year in twenty parishes round.
IV.
Strong of his hands, and strong on his legs, but still of his tongue!
I ought to have gone before him: I wonder he went so young.
I cannot cry for him, Annie: I have not long to stay;
Perhaps I shall see him the sooner, for he lived far away.
V.
Why do you look at me, Annie? you think I am hard and cold;
But all my children have gone before me, I am so old:
I cannot weep for Willy, nor can I weep for the rest;
Only at your age, Annie, I could have wept with the best.
VI.
For I remember a quarrel I had with your father, my dear,
All for a slanderous story, that cost me many a tear.
I mean your grandfather, Annie: it cost me a world of woe,
Seventy years ago, my darling, seventy years ago.
VII.
For Jenny, my cousin, had come to the place, and I knew right well
That Jenny had tript in her time: I knew, but I would not tell.
And she to be coming and slandering me, the base little liar!
But the tongue is a fire as you know, my dear, the tongue is a fire.
VIII.
And the parson made it his text that week, and he said likewise,
That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies,
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright,
But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight.
IX.
And Willy had not been down to the farm for a week and a day;
And all things look'd half-dead, tho' it was the middle of May.
Jenny, to slander me, who knew what Jenny had been!
But soiling another, Annie, will never make oneself clean.
X.
And I cried myself well-nigh blind, and all of an evening late
I climb'd to the top of the garth, and stood by the road at the gate.
The moon like a rick on fire was rising over the dale,
And whit, whit, whit, in the bush beside me chirrupt the nightingale.
XI.
All of a sudden he stopt: there past by the gate of the farm,
Willy,--he did n't see me,--and Jenny hung on his arm.
Out into the road I started, and spoke I scarce knew how;
Ah, there's no fool like the old one -- it makes me angry now.
XII.
Willy stood up like a man, and look'd the thing that he meant;
Jenny, the viper, made me a mocking courtesy and went.
And I said, `Let us part: in a hundred years it'll all be the same,
You cannot love me at all, if you love not my good name.'
XIII.
And he turn'd, and I saw his eyes all wet, in the sweet moonshine:
Sweetheart, I love you so well that your good name is mine.
And what do I care for Jane, let her speak of you well of ill;
But marry me out of hand: we two shall be happy still.'
XIV.
`Marry you, Willy!' said I, `but I needs must speak my mind,
And I fear you'll listen to tales, be jealous and hard and unkind.'
But he turn'd and claspt me in his arms, and answer'd, `No, love, no;'
Seventy years ago, my darling, seventy years ago.
XV.
So Willy and I were wedded: I wore a lilac gown;
And the ringers rang with a will, and he gave the ringers a crown.
But the first that ever I bare was dead before he was born,
Shadow and shine is life, little Annie, flower and thorn.
XVI.
That was the first time, too, that ever I thought of death.
There lay the sweet little body that never had drawn a breath.
I had not wept, little Anne, not since I had been a wife;
But I wept like a child that day, for the babe had fought for his life.
XVII.
His dear little face was troubled, as if with anger or pain:
I look'd at the still little body--his trouble had all been in vain.
For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see him another morn:
But I wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was born.
XVIII.
But he cheer'd me, my good man, for he seldom said me nay:
Kind, like a man, was he; like a man, too, would have his way:
Never jealous--not he: we had many a happy year;
And he died, and I could not weep--my own time seem'd so near.
XIX.
But I wish'd it had been God's will that I, too, then could have died:
I began to be tired a little, and fain had slept at his side.
And that was ten years back, or more, if I don't forget:
But as to the children, Annie, they're all about me yet.
XX.
Pattering over the boards, my Annie who left me at two,
Patter she goes, my own little Annie, an Annie like you:
Pattering over the boards, she comes and goes at her will,
While Harry is in the five-acre and Charlie ploughing the hill.
XXI.
And Harry and Charlie, I hear them too--they sing to their team:
Often they come to the door in a pleasant kind of a dream.
They come and sit by my chair, they hover about my bed--
I am not always certain if they be alive or dead.
XXII.
And yet I know for a truth, there's none of them left alive;
For Harry went at sixty, your father at sixty- five:
And Willy, my eldest born, at nigh threescore and ten;
I knew them all as babies, and now they're elderly men.
XXIII.
For mine is a time of peace, it is not often I grieve;
I am oftener sitting at home in my father's farm at eve:
And the neighbors come and laugh and gossip, and so do I;
I find myself often laughing at things that have long gone by.
XXIV.
To be sure the preacher says, our sins should make us sad:
But mine is a time of peace, and there is Grace to be had;
And God, not man, is the Judge of us all when life shall cease;
And in this Book, little Annie, the message is one of Peace.
XXV.
And age is a time of peace, so it be free from pain,
And happy has been my life; but I would not live it again.
I seem to be tired a little, that's all, and long for rest;
Only at your age, Annie, I could have wept with the best.
XXVI.
So Willy has gone, my beauty, my eldest-born, my flower;
But how can I weep for Willy, he has but gone for an hour,--
Gone for a minute, my son, from this room into the next;
I, too, shall go in a minute. What time have I to be vext?
XXVII.
And Willy's wife has written, she never was over-wise.
Get me my glasses, Annie: thank God that I keep my eyes.
There is but a trifle left you, when I shall have past away.
But stay with the old woman now: you cannot have long to stay.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Queen Jane Approximately
Now when your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father to your sister he explains
That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now the flower lady wants back what she has have lent you
And the smell of her roses does not remain
When all your children start to resent you
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have all died in battle or in vain
And you find yourself sick of all this repetition
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all of your advisers heave their plastic
At your feet to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now when all the bandits that you turned your other cheek to
All throw down their bandannas and complain
Maybe you want somebody you don't have to speak to
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Presentiment
"Sister, you've sat there all the day,
Come to the hearth awhile;
The wind so wildly sweeps away,
The clouds so darkly pile.
That open book has lain, unread,
For hours upon your knee;
You've never smiled nor turned your head;
What can you, sister, see?"
"Come hither, Jane, look down the field;
How dense a mist creeps on!
The path, the hedge, are both concealed,
Ev'n the white gate is gone
No landscape through the fog I trace,
No hill with pastures green;
All featureless is Nature's face.
All masked in clouds her mien.
"Scarce is the rustle of a leaf
Heard in our garden now;
The year grows old, its days wax brief,
The tresses leave its brow.
The rain drives fast before the wind,
The sky is blank and grey;
O Jane, what sadness fills the mind
On such a dreary day!"
"You think too much, my sister dear;
You sit too long alone;
What though November days be drear?
Full soon will they be gone.
I've swept the hearth, and placed your chair,.
Come, Emma, sit by me;
Our own fireside is never drear,
Though late and wintry wane the year,
Though rough the night may be."
"The peaceful glow of our fireside
Imparts no peace to me:
My thoughts would rather wander wide
Than rest, dear Jane, with thee.
I'm on a distant journey bound,
And if, about my heart,
Too closely kindred ties were bound,
'Twould break when forced to part.
"'Soon will November days be o'er:'
Well have you spoken, Jane:
My own forebodings tell me more--
For me, I know by presage sure,
They'll ne'er return again.
Ere long, nor sun nor storm to me
Will bring or joy or gloom;
They reach not that Eternity
Which soon will be my home."
Eight months are gone, the summer sun
Sets in a glorious sky;
A quiet field, all green and lone,
Receives its rosy dye.
Jane sits upon a shaded stile,
Alone she sits there now;
Her head rests on her hand the while,
And thought o'ercasts her brow.
She's thinking of one winter's day,
A few short months ago,
Then Emma's bier was borne away
O'er wastes of frozen snow.
She's thinking how that drifted snow
Dissolved in spring's first gleam,
And how her sister's memory now
Fades, even as fades a dream.
The snow will whiten earth again,
But Emma comes no more;
She left, 'mid winter's sleet and rain,
This world for Heaven's far shore.
On Beulah's hills she wanders now,
On Eden's tranquil plain;
To her shall Jane hereafter go,
She ne'er shall come to Jane!
poem by Charlotte Brontë from Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (1846)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Paul McNeely
Dear Jane! dear winsome Jane!
How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill)
In your nurse's cap and linen cuffs,
And took my hand and said with a smile:
"You are not so ill -- you'll soon be well."
And how the liquid thought of your eyes
Sank in my eyes like dew that slips
Into the heart of a flower.
Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortune
Could not have bought your care of me,
By day and night, and night and day;
Nor paid for your smile, nor the warmth of your soul,
In your little hands laid on my brow.
Jane, till the flame of life went out
In the dark above the disk of night
I longed and hoped to be well again
To pillow my head on your little breasts,
And hold you fast in a clasp of love --
Did my father provide for you when he died,
Jane, dear Jane?
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Plain Jane Country
(eddie raven)
I read your letter just this morning
The first you've wrote since you've been gone
You've finally found yourself a home
You've bought a new car, a great big red one
With a top that rolls right down
You must be something in san fransisco
A dressed up, painted country clown
You're fakin' it well, but it's easy to tell
You're plain jane country come to town
The pace is too fast and you're out of your class
You're plain jane country come to town
You know i love you, at least you ought to
I've loved you all of my livin' days
You got no business makin' changes
Yeah girl, i love your country ways
Go sell that red car, catch an airplane
And i'll be waiting when you land
Yeah, get a white dress, find a preacher
We'll get some rings to fit your hand
You're fakin' it well, but it's easy to tell
You're plain jane country come to town
The pace is too fast and you're out of your class
You're plain jane country come to town
You're plain jane country come to town
You're plain jane country come to town
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Twin with the Purple Heart
One of the girls had unblemished skin,
One had a purple mark,
But for the stain on her shoulder there
You couldn't tell them apart.
While Jane was born at quarter to three
Joan was at ten to four,
Jane was destined for wealth and fame,
While Joan would be always poor!
As Joan had cried, the mother died,
The bombers were over the town,
The hospital where the daughters lay
Was hit, came tumbling down.
An aunt took Jane, and headed north,
A nurse took Joan due west,
So one was raised in a simple home,
The other had only the best.
The Marchioness of Huntingdon,
The title was left to Jane,
Along with a hundred thousand pounds,
A manor with moat, and game,
She'd heard that she had a twin out there
But lost in the war at the start,
She'd looked in vain, but the daughter Jane
Was the twin with the purple heart.
Her aunt had said, it marked her out,
The first born, and the heir,
To claim the entire inheritance,
Her sister had no share,
So Jane had put Joan out of her mind,
Grew arrogant, and vain,
If Joan turned up on her doorstep she
Would say that she had no claim!
She fell in love with a nobleman,
Impoverished though he was,
And he had envied the fortune that
His forebears long had lost,
He'd been betrothed to a simple girl
But said to return the ring,
A Baron wed to a Marchioness
Was a more exciting thing!
They wed in the Spring in a stately home,
His spurned ex-love had cried,
She kept the newspaper cuttings of
The bridegroom and the bride,
She swore she'd get her revenge one day,
That this was not the end,
And then the Baron had called on her,
Asked her to be his friend!
It seemed that Jane had worn him down,
Had cut him to the quick,
By keeping the Baron penniless,
She ruled, she held the stick!
He said that he wished that he'd stuck with her,
Had kept her for his own,
'The likeness is quite remarkable! '
He said to the grieving Joan.
They schemed, and then they hatched a plot,
She bought some purple dye,
Tried it out on her shoulder, drew
A heart, and he told her why:
'For you could pass for the Baroness,
I can't tell you apart,
To me it's plain, you could take her name
As the twin with the purple heart! '
So Joan turned up on the doorstep then,
And Jane was taken aback!
'If I didn't know much better, I
Would swear you're the twin I lack.'
They talked and compared the lives they'd led,
And Jane became afraid,
'Of course, there is no inheritance,
But we need a downstairs maid! '
So Joan moved in, and lived downstairs,
The kitchen became her home,
The Baron, he ignored her, played
The game that he'd planned with Joan.
While Jane was autocratic,
Treated Joan as the family shame,
With nothing of sister love to spare
While the plotters played their game.
While Joan was inking her shoulder, Jane
Came marching into her room,
'You want to look like your sister, well,
That's sweet, ' and laughed in the gloom.
'Let's see how much we can fool him,
Wear my clothes and wait outside,
He's taking me on an outing,
Over there, by the riverside!
Joan dressed herself as Jane and went,
She thought it a joke supreme,
She'd be able to spend some time with him
While Jane thought it a scream,
The purple heart by her halter top
Reflected the summer sun,
While the Baron drove, not saying a word
As his world became undone.
He left her there in the water, drove
Back home, and he strode right in,
'My God, but you should have seen her! '
He began, as she walked to him.
He wet his finger and rubbed the heart,
Then paled, as she started to laugh,
'You can rub and rub 'til eternity,
I'm the twin with the purple heart! '
26 February 2010
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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