Fiona Farrell

Mary Lawry’s Song
 

Open the door Mary.
And who shall I say called?
Only a rough wind
scraping his boots
on the Rock and Pillar.

Answer the bell Mary.
And who was it rang?
A cocky sun tipped
his hat dumped his swag
on the doorstep and
off up the valley.

Polish the spoons Mary.
And are we expecting company?
A crowd: thick cloud
a rose a young appletree.

Set the tea Mary.
And who shall I set it for?
A quiet man who
comes in each night and
goes out each morning.

Mary Lawry, 18. Domestic servant. Cornwall. ‘Queen of the Mersey’, 1862.

 
From Cutting Out (AUP, 1987)

© Fiona Farrell
 

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Last updated 23 July, 2007