Friday, November 24, 2006
Raven locks flowing with stars in her hair–
Never seen tearful, nor ever seen sad,
Everyone thought that Black Janet was mad
Twirling to tunes that the nightingales sing,
Calling their lovers aloft on the wing–
Danced in the summer and danced in the snow,
Never had married, nor taken a beau.
Lindsay the Piper long pined for his love,
Face of an angel and eyes of a dove–
Piped his beloved a low wistful tune,
Piping at midnight beneath each new moon.
Black Janet danced as the piper grew old,
Danced 'til the day when the piper grew cold–
There in the graveyard where secrets are kept,
Crazy Black Janet was still, and she wept.
© 2006 Jeffrey Hull