4
‘That husbands could be cruel,’ said Lorraine, Lorraine, Lorrèe,
‘That husbands could be cruel, I have known for seasons three;
But oh! to ride Vindictive while a baby cries for me,
And be killed across a fence at last for all the world to see!’
5
She mastered young Vindictive—Oh! the gallant lass was she,
And kept him straight and won the race as near as near could be;
But he killed her at the brook against a pollard willow-tree,
Oh! he killed her at the brook, the brute, for all the world to see,
And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorrèe.
Last poem written in illness.
Colorado, U.S.A.
June 1874.
MARTIN LIGHTFOOT’S SONG [{346}]
Come hearken, hearken, gentles all,
Come hearken unto me,
And I’ll sing you a song of a Wood-Lyon
Came swimming out over the sea.
He rangèd west, he rangèd east,
And far and wide ranged he;
He took his bite out of every beast
Lives under the greenwood tree.
Then by there came a silly old wolf,
‘And I’ll serve you,’ quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, ‘My paw is heavy enough,
So what wilt thou do for me?’
Then by there came a cunning old fox,
‘And I’ll serve you,’ quoth he;
Quoth the Lyon, ‘My wits are sharp enough
So what wilt thou do for me?’