University of Virginia Library

THE CRAZY MAID

Poor wretched girl as wretched as thou art
Thou once was lovely ah & then poor maid
Thou had thy sweet heart & was happy
Proud as the rest thou once woud dress & prim
& stand thy hour out oer the glass to make
Thy dress sit lovley but alas
Prides nothing with thee now
Lillies once washd thy bosom & the rose
Blusht on thy cheek the damasks sweetest dye
Swains then adored thee as the village queen
& oft at church thy artlessnes was seen
Above thy prayer book glancing thy fine eye
To catch the fond youths smile whose inmost soul
Glowd ardently to be thy paramour
& doubly blest was he to catch the while
Thy simpering look a innoscent return
But beautys gone & all despise thee now
‘The crazy maid’ the childern bawls aloud
& flys thy sight as tho thou wast a deamon
Those who lovd thee once whose hearts took fire
With instant kindling from thy sparkling eyes
Now hang their heads in silent sad suspence
& wish not to be noticed passing thee
Thy own friends even ah thy best fond friends
Thy poor afflicted parents dread thy ways
& offer up their prayers for thy release
O god they sigh restore her to her reason
Or restore the wandering spirit
To its promisd home
Where wre[t]chedness finds rest
Poor wretch she howls her fancied terrors now
But short existance each gives leave to each
As like the hasty tide they ebb & flow
As like to Aprils skye her passions change
Sun shine & rain clear sky & cloud
All mingling in an hour
So song & sorrow mingles tears & smiles
Laughing & howling at she knows not what
Nor feels not—a minute goes grief dies
She fancies shes in heaven prays & sings
To trees & bushes calling them her angels
Then again a moment shifts the scene
Black horror fill[s] her brain she howls her rage
& frighted flies from every thing that stirs
Cows shine her devils then with tails & horns
& hogs & sheep her imps of dreaded hell
Again composd wild gushing joys again
Burst from her laughing soul poor hagged wretch
Tho witherd beauti[e]s flower tho swains are fled
Despisd & loathd by all she heeds it not
Nor cares a straw such losses are unknown
Give her her hemlock & her stinking weeds
Let headaches gaudy stinking finery
Adorn her dingy bosom—& but grow
Profuse of nettles weaving thence a crown
& placing it upon her matted hair
She struts a queen & none can match her equal
& oft shell search for flowers among the snow
& oft enquire where such things may abound
& if contrould
Will scowl look dark & mutter wild revenge
Tis wonderful to think what instinct leads
Tho reasons gone & blind hap hazard stoops
At every weed thats growing in her way
Still worst of weeds appear her happiest choise
Shell chuse wild nettles & go by the rose
& hen bane look & call it sweetest flower
Sweet indeed & shove it in her bosom
Then sudden change & call em nasty weeds
& strew em on the dunghill whence they grew
Poor wilderd wretch shell labour hard adays
Folding her aprons corners snugly up
To fill her lap with pebbles—searching round
With much industry these she deems as stars
Dropt from the heavens by her lovers hand
To please & make her happy—she woud laugh
& count the heap shed gatherd oer & oer
Suns moons & stars oft sorting them shed sit
For hours & hours upon some hilly bank
Aranging them in letters of his name
Decietfull man she lovd him & was happy
& as her childish playthings wearied her
Shed rise & kiss them one by one & woud
Mumble to each some pretty secret story
Giving them charge to take it to her lover
Some tender tale as how she lovd him still
& how ere while promise long made
She tended to fullfill to take a trip to heaven
To see & live with him & be at rest
Thus to her stones shed mutter & woud oft
Cite striking passages that pleasd her much
Of things once past in their unlucky love
As true as if shed reason ever so
& then shed toss her stars upon their Journey
Spreading her hands & bawling out good speed
Good bye farwell youll soon be up in heaven
To him who dropt you down to pleasure me
He loves me still god bless him
& as they fell again shed pick them up
Look surlily around & chide em much
For dallying thus to bear her message up
& tell her love tale in her lovers ear
Casting them from her with a furious throw
Far off they fell she heard em drop no more
She fancyd then they lodgd upon the clouds
& blest & happy woud she laugh & think
Them on their destind Journey oft good night
Shed clap her hands & haloo aye good night
Theyve told my story now & he has smild
& he woud kiss me now coud I but see him
Hes pleasd to think I love him still—he is
To think Im true good night to morrow morn
Hell drop ye down again ye pretty stars
When night no longer wants ye for his use
& drop a letter with ye gilt wi gold
Wrote with a moon beam sealed with a cloud
Then I shall know & still be sure he loves me
Heaven bless him pretty stars good night