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Useful Girl

Montana Rose

The wind blew from the mountains,
And the clouds were sweeping low;
As a ragged band of Cheyenne Indians,
Stopped along the road.

Among them was a young girl,
Who lay dying of fever;
Just about a hundred years ago.
(oh ho, a hundred years ago...)

The light was swiftly fading,
And the night, it promised snow;
So they wrapped her in an army coat,
To keep her from the cold.

Placed silver thimbles on her fingers,
So someones god would know:
She was a useful girl, who could sew.
(oh ho, she could sew)

Then Darkness swirled around them
Like a curtain on a stage;
Like a closing of a door,
The turning of a page...

* * * * *

They say a lifetime's over,
In the twinkling of an eye;
And it hardly counts for nothing,
As the ages roll on by.

Kings and queens and pharoahs
Have left mighty works in stone;
Just to let somebody know.
(oh ho, somebody know...)

That's how the workmen found her
They were widening the road:
Wrapped up in an army coat,
Where they left her long ago...

With silver thimbles on her fingers,
She slept beneath the snow:
She was a useful girl, who could sew.
(oh ho, she could sew...)

Then Darkness swirled around them
Like a curtain on a stage;
Like a closing of a door,
The turning of a page...

* * * * *

The wind blew from the mountains,
And the clouds were sweeping low;
As a ragged band of Cheyenne Indians,
Stopped along the road.

Among them was a young girl.
Who lay dying of fever;
Just about a hundred years ago...

Home :: Poetry :: Sorrow and Sadness (6) :: Useful Girl

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