Then one morning I awoke to find her weeping/
And for many days to follow/
She grew so sad and lonely/
Became Joy in name only/
Within her breast there launched an unnamed sorrow/
And a dark and grim force set sail/
Farewell happy fields/
Where joy forever dwells/
* Hail horrors hail */
Was it an act of contrition or some awful premonition/
As if she saw into the heart of her final blood-soaked night/
Those lunatic eyes, that hungry kitchen knife/
Ah, I see sir, that I have your attention!/
Well, could it be?/
How often I've asked that question/
Well, then in quick succession/
We had babies, one, two, three/
We called them Hilda, Hattie and Holly/
They were their mother's children/
Their eyes were bright blue jewels/
And they were quiet as a mouse/
There was no laughter in the house/
No, not from Hilda, Hattie or Holly/
''No wonder'', people said, ''poor mother Joy's so melancholy''/
Well, one night there came a visitor to our little home/
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