Good people all with one accord,
|
Lament for Mary Blaize,
|
She never wanted one good word,
|
From those who spoke her praise,
|
The needy seldom passed her door,
|
And always found her kind,
|
She freely lent to all the poor,
|
Who left a pledge behind.
|
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She strove the neighbour hood to please,
|
With manners wondrous winning,
|
She never followed wicked ways,
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Unless when she was sinning,
|
At church in silks and satins new,
|
With hoop of monstrous size,
|
She never slumbered in her pew,
|
But when she closed her eyes.
|
|
Her love was sought I do declare,
|
By twenty beaux and more,
|
The King himself did seem to care,
|
Where she had walked before,
|
But wealth and finery all fled,
|
And hangers-on all gone,
|
The doctors found when she was dead,
|
The life within her none.
|
|
Good people all with one accord,
|
Lament for Mary Blaize,
|
Who never wanted one good word,
|
From those who spoke her praise,
|
The needy seldom passed her door,
|
And always found her kind,
|
She freely lent to all the poor
|
Who left a pledge behind.
|
|
Let us lament in sorrow sore,
|
For Kent Street well may say,
|
That had she lived a twelve month more,
|
She had not died today.
|
|
-----------------
|
Mary Blaize
|
| Kate Rusby |
