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A neighbor came, to ask about A plough, that night;He never could forget that strange And awful sight.
She'd used the kitchen knife on him And he was dead;She sat, a bruised and battered thing From feet to head,
And hummed a little song, or spoke A tender word,And tried to make blue feathers stay Upon a bird!
The ConservativeWinifred Virginia Jackson


THE TRICKSY TUNE
The Hired Man Speaks:
"He never spoke a civil word To her; it was his ruleTo snarl or shout; his best for her Was 'Mooncalf, dolt an' fool!'"
The Story:
The house was built back from the Road; It stood there grim and grayAnd silent, 'mid great aspen trees That quivered night and day.
The Road was narrow; old stone walls Arose on either sideBegrudging from the farm the land The roadbed had to gride.

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