|home | background | illustrations | distribution | highlights | search & browse | resources | contact us|
Broadside ballad entitled 'Mary, the Maid of the Inn'
Mary, the Maid of the Inn.
PRICE ONE PENNY
Copies can always be had in the POET'S BOX, 80 London Street, Glasgow,
Who is she, the poor maniac, whose wildly fix'd eyes
Seem a heart overcharged to express ??
The composure of settled distress.
No aid,.no compassion, the maniac will seek.
Cold and hunger awake not her care:
Has the deadly pale hue of despair.
Yet cheerful and happy (nor distant the day)
Poor Mary the maniac has been:
As Mary, the maid of the inn.
Her cheerful address fill'd the guests with delight,
As she welcom'd them in with a smile;
When the wind whistled down the dark aisle.
She lov'd?and young.Richard had settled the day?
And she hop'd to be happy for life:
That she was too good for his wife.
'Twas in autumn, and stormy and dark was the night,
And fast were the windows and door;
"They listen'd to hear the wind roar."
"'Tis pleasant," cried one, "seated by the fireside,
To hear the wind whistle without;"
"A fine night for the abbey," his comrade replied:
" I myself, like a schoolboy, should tremble to hear
The hoarse ivy shake over my head:
For this wind might awaken the dead."
" I'll wager a dinner," the other one cried,
"Will Mary this charge on her courage allow?"
His companion exclaim'd with a smile;
From the alder that grows in the aisle."
With fearless good humour did Mary comply,
And her way to the;abbey she bent;
She shiver'd with cold as she went.
O'er the path, so well known, still proceeded the maid,
Where the abbey rose dim at her sight;
Seem'd to deepen the gloom of the night.
All around her was silent, save when the rude blast
Howl'd dismally round the old pile;
Where the alder-tree grew in the aisle.
Well pleas'd did she reach it, and quickly drew near.
She paus'd, and she listen'd, all eager to hear,
The wind blew, the hoarse ivy shook over her head ;?
She listen'd;?nought else could she hear:
Behind a wide column, half breathless with fear,
She crept to conceal herself there:
And between them a corse they did bear.
Then Mary could feel her heart's blood curdle cold,
Again the rough wind hurried by-
She fell?and expected to die.
" Curse the hat!"?he exclaim'd?" nay, come on and
The dead body," his comrade replies.
As fast through the abbey she flies.
She ran with wild speed, she rush'd in at the door,
She cast her eyes horribly round;
Unable to utter a sound.
Ere yet the pale lips could the story impart,
For a moment the hat met her view:
When the name of her Richard she knew !
Where the old abbey stands on a common hard by,
His gibbet is now to be seen;
Of poor Mary, the maid of the inn.
The POET is universally admitted to be the Cheapest
Letters and Petitions written by the Poet on the most
Songs, Parodies, and Epitaphs written by the Poet on
Saturday morning, July 3,1869.
Date of publication:
1869 shelfmark: L.C.Fol.70(56)