The Tears of Marie Anne

[mr_blue_owl]

The Tears of Marie Anne

 

Marie Anne cried as she was born

Her first tears on a hallowed morn

A child so tender and so sweet

She made her parents joy complete

With her blessed life’s first dawn

 

The son of two years old named Chad

Was fair of face, a robust lad

‘Congratulations’ smiled his mother

‘You have now become a brother’

And he was truly glad

 

The next three years were heaven sent

With siblings both intelligent

Gentle natured, softly spoken

Then the bliss was rudely broken

By nature’s cruel event

 

One evening blew a squall so bad

The worst storm they had ever had

The lives of Marie Anne’s good folks

Were taken by fierce lightning strokes

Which spared Marie and Chad

 

The pastor’s face was pale and wan

The rhythmic funeral drum began

Her parents now in God’s embrace

Streaming down her pretty face

Were the tears of Marie Anne

 

Thus at the age of three years old

Marie Anne was taken from the fold

And in an home incarcerated

All alone and separated

From all of her family

 

She knew not to where Chad had got

But knew so well that he would not

Leave her side from his own choice

Leave the memory of his voice

As she dozed off in her cot

 

The matron of the orphan’s home

Watched the young girl all alone

Wide eyed with bewildered face

She sought to give the child solace

And wished she was her own

 

The Guvnor of the home, Baptiste

For children, cared not in the least

He invented new rules at a whim

But no one dared to defy him

They all called him The Beast

 

Thirteen years passed by too fast

Since Marie saw her brother last

She so missed his smiling face

Missed her brother’s warm embrace

Her longing never passed

 

Baptiste came to the child so fair

Stroked her face, stroked her hair

‘’Come with me my little one’

Took her hand and they were gone

To climb the winding stair

 

Behind a wooden panelled door

A gloomy room of brown decor

Which felt so damp and smelled of rot

Dark and dreary, fearsome hot

A coat and mattress on the floor

 

Baptiste led his young prize so pretty

And showing not one trace of pity

Took away her orphanage dress

Took away her happiness

And took away her virginity

 

After Marie had been defiled

The matron sought her surrogate child

She went to Marie’s sleeping place

Picked up a crumpled pillow case

Her thoughts were running wild

 

The matron cursed the Guvnor man

Knew she could have stopped his plan

In the sombre glow of a bedside lamp

She felt the pillow case was damp

From the tears of Marie Anne

 

For several months the evil beast

Pleasured himself as he pleased

Abused her young and tender charms

Pinned her down with his strong arms

She prayed that it would cease

 

One day the matron knocked her door

She said ‘you have a visitor’

No, not again thought Marie Anne

Assumed it was the Guvnor man

And cried a little more

 

Baptiste opened the dark room’s door

Stepping inside the gloom he saw

As expected, curled beneath the coat

A figure, to whom he did gloat

‘I am here my little whore’

 

An arm then cast the coat away

But no Marie Anne beneath it lay

Instead a young man, tall and strong

Leapt to his feet pointing a long

Sharp rapier Baptiste’s way

 

The guvnor’s heart leapt at the sight

At first he was struck dumb in fright

But when his nerves had calmed, he said

‘Who is this that steals my bed

And trespasses this night’?

 

‘The loving kith and kin am I

Of the girl you choose to terrify

And now for my dear sister’s sake

Vengeance I have come to take

And you sir, you must die’

 

‘Please no’ the guvnor man implored

‘Name the price to sheath your sword

Of riches I have very many

‘To you I will give every penny’

You can live life as a Lord

 

Chad’s lips curled into a smile

He did not speak for quite a while

As though the bribe he did consider

‘So you think that to the highest bidder

I would forget your crimes so vile’?

 

‘I hereby turn down your request’

Baptiste’s lips moved to protest

But from his mouth words came no more

In dreadful pain he looked and saw

The sword buried in his chest

 

The Piper at the gates of dawn

Played a jig through till next morn

As Hell prepared a special spot

Dark and dreary, fearsome hot

For Baptiste to adorn