An old draped cow with a bony arse lows by the midden heap
a wall eyed ewe with tattered fleece gazes into the poisoned well
and a one-eyed cat yowls an' squalls as he stalks the forsaken night
while a mangy rat with a scabby tail soundly curses all to Hell.
Winters fell upon the 'stead, no gaiety within
no warmth, no beer or food or cheer
the inglenook stands drear and still
no Yuletide merriment here.
The window shutters swing and groan
the night winds stalk boldly in
no door remains to bar the way
to the hovel of Sarah Flynn.
'Tis dark, 'tis grim, 'tis stale within
where a small black candle gutters
a bent figure slouches at a barren board
and groans and mumbles and mutters.
Black the gown, black the shawl
lost, forsaken and shadow chilled
silent the feet on the stone flagged floor
silent the black blood spilled.
Touch the shoulder, touch the hand
peer into the empty eyes
ask what's the tale behind the tears
ask the whats, an' wheres, an' whys.
Ask, ask and ask forever more
no story will she tell
for to her grave the widow took
the secret of Mourning Dell.
