Joseph.
You are very brave with your bragging tongue;
But if you had been there, you'd have sung
A very different tune
Poor Blue Beard! He would have been afraid
Of a little boy with a penknife blade,
Or a tiny pewter spoon!
Samuel.
It makes no difference what you say
(Pretty little boy, afraid to play!)
But it served him rightly any way,
And gave him just his due.
And wasn't it good that his little wife
Should live in his castle the rest of her life,
And have all his money, too?
Rebekah.
I'm thinking of the ladies who
Were lying in the Chamber Blue,
With all their small necks cut in two.
I see them lying, half a score,
In a long row upon the floor,
Their cold, white bosoms marked with gore.
I know the sweet Fatima would
Have put their heads on if she could;
And made them live—she was so good;
And washed their faces at the sink;
But Blue Beard was not sane, I think:
I wonder if he did not drink!
For no man in his proper mind
Would be so cruelly inclined
As to kill ladies who were kind.
Ruth.