Digital Tradition Mirror

Mrs. Ravoon

Mrs. Ravoon

I climbed the clock tower 'neath the noonday sun;
'Twas midday, at least, ere my journey was done.
But the clock never sounded the last stroke of noon,
For there from the clapper swung Mrs. Ravoon.

     Mrs. Ravoon, Mrs. Ravoon,
     You are too much with me, late and soon.

I stole through the dungeon whilst everyone slept
Till I came to the place where the monster was kept.
There in the arms of a giant baboon,
Rigid and smiling, lay Mrs. Ravoon.

I stood by the water, so green and thick,
And I stirred at the scum with my old, withered stick,
When there rose from the depths of the limpid lagoon
The luminous body of Mrs. Ravoon.

I pulled in my line and I took my first look
At the half-eaten horror that hung from my hook.
I had dragged from the depths of that limpid lagoon
The bloated cadaver of Mrs. Ravoon.

I went to an amateur butcher I know
For the gut of a cat for my violin bow,
But I never imagined I'd pay my next tune
On the shuddering entrails of Mrs. Ravoon.

I ran through the marsh 'midst the lightning and thunder,
When a terrible flash spit the darkness asunder.
Chewing a rat's tail and mumbling a rune,
Mad in the moat, squatted Mrs. Ravoon.

Old English rhyme set to music by Tom Mastin.
Recorded by Harry Tuft on "Across the Blue Mountains," copyright
1976 by Folk Legacy Records, FSA-63.

Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!

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