MARSEY TOWN
As I came over the Hill of ClayneOr ever the leaf was brown,The wind blew light in the pods of broom,For the gay, gold flower had lost its bloom,And “O the jewel,” I sang again,“That’s waiting in Marsey Town!”The shadows raced on the sun-swept hill,And dappled its ancient crown,The kestrel hovered on wings outspread,The rabbit slipped through the bracken-bedAnd the world beat time as I sang my fillAnd travelled to Marsey Town.O foolish singer and foolish song!The lure of a pinchbeck clownHad thieved my jewel, my heart’s own core,My goal was gained, but I sang no more,And I turned me home as the shades grew longFrom the steeples of Marsey Town.A lad came over the Hill of ClayneA-singing as he stepped down—Aye me! forget what a fool has said,For I called him “I” but he’s long, long dead—Dumb—gone like the sound of his own refrainAnd buried in Marsey Town!