A Poem to Lizzie
Posted: Fri Jul 01, 2011 8:45 am
Hi, everyone – I finally got a copy of the 1975 movie, “The Legend of Lizzie Borden,” starring Elizabeth Montgomery. I watched it again for the first time since seeing it when it was first televised. So, naturally, after watching it, I started thinking about the whole case again & I started to write a few lines about Lizzie Borden. Well, those few lines turned into a lot of lines! Anyway, I’d like to share it with my fellow Bordenites. Yes, it’s long & no – I don’t know the first thing about poetry, but once I started, I couldn’t stop (sort of like Lizzie?) I hope you enjoy it!
Hatchet blade, dripping gore
Ma & Pa are no more
Hide it well, hide it good
Break the handle, burn the wood
Did you plan it, this evil deed?
Years of rage, mixed with greed?
Or, did it happen - just like that?
Spur of the moment - like Abby's cat?
Swung at Abby, felt the whack
Victim of a surprise attack
Frenzied blows fueled by hate
Chop after chop sealed Abby’s fate
Calming down, you hid the dress
Up in the cupboard or old clothes press
Then stitched a loop & ironed some cloth
No prussic acid for a seal skin moth?
Just passing time without a care
Next victim comes home, you laugh on the stair
Daddy lie down, you need some rest
Trust your daughter cause she knows best
Close your eyes, you’ll soon be dead
Do you sense something raised above your head?
Blood spurting on the walls & door
Why stop at 10 when you can hack once more?
First the sow, now the father
They’ll never believe it was the daughter
Clean up the mess, fold the Prince Albert coat
Call down the maid, invent Abby’s note
"Maggie come quick, Mr. Borden is dead!"
"Someone came in & butchered his head"
"Oh, Mrs. Churchill, do come over!"
The killer’s anger is really what drove her
Who could have done this? What are the facts?
You hope they’re buying your false act
Then, Russell asks, "Is there another?"
"I must correct you sir, she’s not my mother!"
Get two sheets, cover the horror
You shed no tears cause there was no sorrow
Who could explain this? Dr. Bowen can't
Bromo caffeine will control the rant
Your hands were clean, no blood on your face
Not a strand of your hair was out of place
But it wasn’t too long before suspicions arose
And thoughts so chilling that every heart froze
Accused of murder, such a masculine crime
How did she clean the blood, there was no time!
The trial was long – hot, sultry days
Newsmen captured the courtroom craze
The public hungered, eager for press
Salivating over a burned paint-stained dress
The ending neared & you were asked to speak
So with trembling hands & knees so weak
You claimed your innocence in a defiant way
Leaving it to your counsel to have its say
When the jury returned, murmurs grew loud
Tense excitement buzzed through the crowd
"Not guilty!" said the foreman with a wrinkled brow
But they still didn’t know the who or the how
At first, you were treated to a cheerful cry
Friends surrounded you, emotions ran high
Yet when it died down, uneasy quiet crept in
Public opinion was that you committed this sin
So you lived out your life up on the hill
Content at first thanks to your father’s will
Yet as time went by, you were shunned
Did you ask yourself what had you really won?
Years of loneliness, your own home a jail
Well, at least indoor plumbing beat an old slop pail
Then, before you knew it, you were growing old
But fingers still pointed & stares were rigidly cold
So, as your hair turned gray & your body became frail
A legend was cemented from this tragic tale
People saw you & whispered, "There she is!"
"She killed her parents – oh, yes she did!"
Kids skipped rope & immortalized your name
Did you secretly relish this morbid fame?
For thirty-odd years you had time to muse
Was it worth it? How much did you really lose?
Then it was over, your heart beat its last
But folklore would never relinquish your past
How could you have known when you swung that axe
A hundred years later we’d still be debating the facts?
Hatchet blade, dripping gore
Ma & Pa are no more
Hide it well, hide it good
Break the handle, burn the wood
Did you plan it, this evil deed?
Years of rage, mixed with greed?
Or, did it happen - just like that?
Spur of the moment - like Abby's cat?
Swung at Abby, felt the whack
Victim of a surprise attack
Frenzied blows fueled by hate
Chop after chop sealed Abby’s fate
Calming down, you hid the dress
Up in the cupboard or old clothes press
Then stitched a loop & ironed some cloth
No prussic acid for a seal skin moth?
Just passing time without a care
Next victim comes home, you laugh on the stair
Daddy lie down, you need some rest
Trust your daughter cause she knows best
Close your eyes, you’ll soon be dead
Do you sense something raised above your head?
Blood spurting on the walls & door
Why stop at 10 when you can hack once more?
First the sow, now the father
They’ll never believe it was the daughter
Clean up the mess, fold the Prince Albert coat
Call down the maid, invent Abby’s note
"Maggie come quick, Mr. Borden is dead!"
"Someone came in & butchered his head"
"Oh, Mrs. Churchill, do come over!"
The killer’s anger is really what drove her
Who could have done this? What are the facts?
You hope they’re buying your false act
Then, Russell asks, "Is there another?"
"I must correct you sir, she’s not my mother!"
Get two sheets, cover the horror
You shed no tears cause there was no sorrow
Who could explain this? Dr. Bowen can't
Bromo caffeine will control the rant
Your hands were clean, no blood on your face
Not a strand of your hair was out of place
But it wasn’t too long before suspicions arose
And thoughts so chilling that every heart froze
Accused of murder, such a masculine crime
How did she clean the blood, there was no time!
The trial was long – hot, sultry days
Newsmen captured the courtroom craze
The public hungered, eager for press
Salivating over a burned paint-stained dress
The ending neared & you were asked to speak
So with trembling hands & knees so weak
You claimed your innocence in a defiant way
Leaving it to your counsel to have its say
When the jury returned, murmurs grew loud
Tense excitement buzzed through the crowd
"Not guilty!" said the foreman with a wrinkled brow
But they still didn’t know the who or the how
At first, you were treated to a cheerful cry
Friends surrounded you, emotions ran high
Yet when it died down, uneasy quiet crept in
Public opinion was that you committed this sin
So you lived out your life up on the hill
Content at first thanks to your father’s will
Yet as time went by, you were shunned
Did you ask yourself what had you really won?
Years of loneliness, your own home a jail
Well, at least indoor plumbing beat an old slop pail
Then, before you knew it, you were growing old
But fingers still pointed & stares were rigidly cold
So, as your hair turned gray & your body became frail
A legend was cemented from this tragic tale
People saw you & whispered, "There she is!"
"She killed her parents – oh, yes she did!"
Kids skipped rope & immortalized your name
Did you secretly relish this morbid fame?
For thirty-odd years you had time to muse
Was it worth it? How much did you really lose?
Then it was over, your heart beat its last
But folklore would never relinquish your past
How could you have known when you swung that axe
A hundred years later we’d still be debating the facts?