Ollie McGeeHave you seen walking through the villageA man with downcast eyes and haggard face?That is my husband who, by secret crueltyNever to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,And with broken pride and shameful humility,I sank into the grave.But what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart?The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!These are driving him to the place where I lie.In death, therefore, I am avenged.
Have you seen walking through the villageA man with downcast eyes and haggard face?That is my husband who, by secret crueltyNever to be told, robbed me of my youth and my beauty;Till at last, wrinkled and with yellow teeth,And with broken pride and shameful humility,I sank into the grave.But what think you gnaws at my husband’s heart?The face of what I was, the face of what he made me!These are driving him to the place where I lie.In death, therefore, I am avenged.