‘Long the banks o' Mystic River,
By that filthy, murky water
Where the stars above all quiver,
Weeps a girl who's no one's daughter,
Lost inside that dark 'n' gritty
Hole so many girls are tossed in:
Nasty streets that got no pity
On a Christmas Eve in Boston.
Night has fallen. No One's Daughter
Gazes out across the river,
While the starlight on the water
Glitters yellow, gold, 'n' silver,
Like them stars framed in a window
Where a neon sign is blinkin'
Nights 'er daddy's loomin' shadow
Sways above 'er, home from drinkin'.
No One's Daughter starts to shiver
As she wades out in the water,
'Til she's floatin' down that river
Where the heavens have forgot ‘er,
Where the heavens won't remember
All the cold things that they taught 'er
On a cold night in December
When they named 'er No One’s Daughter.
Johnny reads "The Song o' No One's Daughter:
Subscribe to Channel Five-Two for first view of new videos.
Johnny confesses: "Years ago I'd observed a girl in Boston sifting through a trashcan for food. Around the same period I was grooving to H.W. Longfellow's, "The Song of Hiawatha." The thumping trochaic tetrameter...the feminine rhymes...my own helpless feelings for the girl...all ultimately converged in this poem."
4 comments:
This is excellent. Best I've read in ages. Makes me want to get writing.
Fantastic poem, I love the use of old world styling in a contemporary context.
I'm always partial to anything Boston, having lived in Cambridge for a few years. Regardless, this was well done. Excellent.
Better than a plate of baked beans and brown raisin bread. Nailed it.
Post a Comment