athlone

Come gather ye round m’ hearty lads
And hear me tell of Flo’,
For there’s nowt that cheers such wanton ears
As another’s tale of woe.

Poor Flo’ was born a maid forlorn
Who loved her master so,
But he cast her out with a cruel clout,
Alone with her babe in tow.

‘Twas winter and the snow lay thick
Upon the roads across the moors,
Not one kind face nor act of grace
To open shuttered doors.

And bye and bye the babe did die,
Its frozen corpse a bundle small
Under a hedgerow made to lie,
Its innocent accusing eye damning her and us withal.

Oh spiteful fate come early or late
Its victims must enthrall,
None can escape such joy or hate
That needs us to befall.

We can but cheer and drink our beer,
As closest to the fire
We warm our thoughts and heat our corpse
And plan to our heart’s desire.

erikestabrook

great poem, really insightful
reminded me of a show I watched,
only this poem was much better it got really great at the end,
well-penned

athlone

Thanks, erikestabrook.
When I wrote it (about 6 months ago) I obviously was aware that I was using a 19th century style but it is only when I read it now that the style reminds me of "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Cheers,
Zvi

ronbliss

Aye Athlone,
Detecting some of that influence from your time in Eire.
Very good with a polished tone and structured nicely.
Ron

athlone

Aye Lad! The magic green clover rubs off on a body in the Emerald Isle!
Thanks,
Zvi
PoetryPages4u - Free! Design an online greeting and send it with a poem by email! Romantic, bittersweet, sad, social and political verse.