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Washer At The Ford

Argyle Goolsby


Stranger, don't be afraid
I am in no shape to do you harm
Though frightened you surely are by me
Grant me a moments vended knee
Dismiss this blood spray on my clothes
I can assure you it's my own
Though I lay bearing no cruel wound
The witch on the ford surely sealed my doom

Oh god, I think I'm marked

Stranger lend me your ear
Hear these last words of a dying man
I testify a great misdeed
My true loves heart I have aggrieved
I broke off for another belle
She conjured up vengeance she conjured up hell
She put that webbed
Witch there square in my path
Soaking my clothes with the blood of the past

From round' yonder bend she came closing in
The shadowy washer at the ford
Jacklights were her eyes fortelling demise
The flickering washer at the ford

Now I know I'm marked

Stranger could it be
We've met someplace before?
You grow resemblance to my lover
Whom I've recent scorned
"yes fallen friend
We did aquaint once on a stroll
Round' yonder bend
Now let me wring those stains out
From your soul"

She wailed as she washed
She laughed at the cross
I hastily patterned cross my chest
My vestment she wrung
And ruefully flung these burgundy bloodstains
Cross' my breast
From round' yonder bend she came closing in
The shadowy washer
At the ford
Jacklights were her eyes fortelling demise
The flickering washer at the ford

Compositor: Stephen Wayne Matthews (Argyle Goolsby)
ECAD: Obra #11949244

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