Patrick Orr
Annie Shore, ’twas, sang last nightDown in South End saloon;A tawdry creature in the light,Painted cheeks, eyes over bright,Singing a dance-hall tune.I’d be forgetting Annie’s singing—I’d not have thought again—But for the thing that cried and flutteredThrough all the shrill refrain:Youth crying above foul words, cheap music,And innocence in pain.They sentenced Johnnie Doon todayFor murder, stark and grim;Death’s none too dear a price, they say,For such-like men as him to pay;No need to pity him!And Johnnie Doon I’d not be pitying—I could forget him now—But for the childish look of troubleThat fell across his brow,For the twisting hands he looked at dumblyAs if they’d sinned, he knew not how.
Annie Shore, ’twas, sang last nightDown in South End saloon;A tawdry creature in the light,Painted cheeks, eyes over bright,Singing a dance-hall tune.I’d be forgetting Annie’s singing—I’d not have thought again—But for the thing that cried and flutteredThrough all the shrill refrain:Youth crying above foul words, cheap music,And innocence in pain.They sentenced Johnnie Doon todayFor murder, stark and grim;Death’s none too dear a price, they say,For such-like men as him to pay;No need to pity him!And Johnnie Doon I’d not be pitying—I could forget him now—But for the childish look of troubleThat fell across his brow,For the twisting hands he looked at dumblyAs if they’d sinned, he knew not how.
Annie Shore, ’twas, sang last nightDown in South End saloon;A tawdry creature in the light,Painted cheeks, eyes over bright,Singing a dance-hall tune.
Annie Shore, ’twas, sang last night
Down in South End saloon;
A tawdry creature in the light,
Painted cheeks, eyes over bright,
Singing a dance-hall tune.
I’d be forgetting Annie’s singing—I’d not have thought again—But for the thing that cried and flutteredThrough all the shrill refrain:Youth crying above foul words, cheap music,And innocence in pain.
I’d be forgetting Annie’s singing—
I’d not have thought again—
But for the thing that cried and fluttered
Through all the shrill refrain:
Youth crying above foul words, cheap music,
And innocence in pain.
They sentenced Johnnie Doon todayFor murder, stark and grim;Death’s none too dear a price, they say,For such-like men as him to pay;No need to pity him!
They sentenced Johnnie Doon today
For murder, stark and grim;
Death’s none too dear a price, they say,
For such-like men as him to pay;
No need to pity him!
And Johnnie Doon I’d not be pitying—I could forget him now—But for the childish look of troubleThat fell across his brow,For the twisting hands he looked at dumblyAs if they’d sinned, he knew not how.
And Johnnie Doon I’d not be pitying—
I could forget him now—
But for the childish look of trouble
That fell across his brow,
For the twisting hands he looked at dumbly
As if they’d sinned, he knew not how.
As I rode down the arroyo through yuccas belled with bloomI saw a last year’s stalk lift dried hands to the light,Like age at prayer for death within a careless room,Like one by day o’ertaken, whose sick desire is night.And as I rode I saw a lean coyote lyingAll perfect as in life upon a silver dune,Save that his feet no more could flee the harsh light’s spying,Save that no more his shadow would cleave the sinking moon.O cruel land, where form endures, the spirit fled!You chill the sun for me with your gray sphinx’s smile,Brooding in the bright silence above your captive dead,Where beat the heart of life so brief, so brief a while!
As I rode down the arroyo through yuccas belled with bloomI saw a last year’s stalk lift dried hands to the light,Like age at prayer for death within a careless room,Like one by day o’ertaken, whose sick desire is night.And as I rode I saw a lean coyote lyingAll perfect as in life upon a silver dune,Save that his feet no more could flee the harsh light’s spying,Save that no more his shadow would cleave the sinking moon.O cruel land, where form endures, the spirit fled!You chill the sun for me with your gray sphinx’s smile,Brooding in the bright silence above your captive dead,Where beat the heart of life so brief, so brief a while!
As I rode down the arroyo through yuccas belled with bloomI saw a last year’s stalk lift dried hands to the light,Like age at prayer for death within a careless room,Like one by day o’ertaken, whose sick desire is night.
As I rode down the arroyo through yuccas belled with bloom
I saw a last year’s stalk lift dried hands to the light,
Like age at prayer for death within a careless room,
Like one by day o’ertaken, whose sick desire is night.
And as I rode I saw a lean coyote lyingAll perfect as in life upon a silver dune,Save that his feet no more could flee the harsh light’s spying,Save that no more his shadow would cleave the sinking moon.
And as I rode I saw a lean coyote lying
All perfect as in life upon a silver dune,
Save that his feet no more could flee the harsh light’s spying,
Save that no more his shadow would cleave the sinking moon.
O cruel land, where form endures, the spirit fled!You chill the sun for me with your gray sphinx’s smile,Brooding in the bright silence above your captive dead,Where beat the heart of life so brief, so brief a while!
O cruel land, where form endures, the spirit fled!
You chill the sun for me with your gray sphinx’s smile,
Brooding in the bright silence above your captive dead,
Where beat the heart of life so brief, so brief a while!