Ida FrickeyNothing in life is alien to you:I was a penniless girl from SummumWho stepped from the morning train in Spoon River.All the houses stood before me with closed doorsAnd drawn shades—I was barred out;I had no place or part in any of them.And I walked past the old McNeely mansion,A castle of stone ’mid walks and gardensWith workmen about the place on guardAnd the County and State upholding itFor its lordly owner, full of pride.I was so hungry I had a vision:I saw a giant pair of scissorsDip from the sky, like the beam of a dredge,And cut the house in two like a curtain.But at the “Commercial” I saw a manWho winked at me as I asked for work—It was Wash McNeely’s son.He proved the link in the chain of titleTo half my ownership of the mansion,Through a breach of promise suit—the scissors.So, you see, the house, from the day I was born,Was only waiting for me.
Nothing in life is alien to you:I was a penniless girl from SummumWho stepped from the morning train in Spoon River.All the houses stood before me with closed doorsAnd drawn shades—I was barred out;I had no place or part in any of them.And I walked past the old McNeely mansion,A castle of stone ’mid walks and gardensWith workmen about the place on guardAnd the County and State upholding itFor its lordly owner, full of pride.I was so hungry I had a vision:I saw a giant pair of scissorsDip from the sky, like the beam of a dredge,And cut the house in two like a curtain.But at the “Commercial” I saw a manWho winked at me as I asked for work—It was Wash McNeely’s son.He proved the link in the chain of titleTo half my ownership of the mansion,Through a breach of promise suit—the scissors.So, you see, the house, from the day I was born,Was only waiting for me.