The Tears of Marie Anne

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The Tears of Marie Anne 





Death kissed a gypsy caravan

To claim one of the Romni clan 

As her life ebbed with the day

Her final act was to wipe away

The tears of Marie Anne




The father grieved so for his wife

In deep despair he took his life

No goodbye note for his son Thad

Nor daughter Marie Anne so sad

They suffered in their strife





Maria Anne, just three years old

Went to the carva of Nadyagold

A soothsayer of great renown

‘Come my child, sit thyself down

Thy fortune shall be told’






The old dabrani shook her head

‘I see a dull brown room’ she said

‘Bare and gloomy, smells of rot,

Dark and dreary, fearsome hot,

With a greatcoat for a bed’





‘You must beware my little one

For evil to thee will be done

Here is a hex that thy can use

If thou should suffer from abuse

Then vengeance will be won





‘Be sure to use this amria wise

Whoever thy curses with it dies’

And as she spoke to Marie Anne

Words of the ancient Romni clan

Thunder rolled across the skies






‘Thaddeus will go’ said the man

‘To an orphanage in Nottingham,

Marie to another in Harrogate

His words did naught to mitigate

The tears of Marie Anne






The matron of the orphan’s home

Saw Marie Anne stand all alone

Clutching at her small suitcase

She saw her sad, bewildered face

And she took her as her own







The principal was Jude Baptiste

For kids he cared not in the least

Thick leather belt used as a strap

An arrogant and odious chap

His nickname was ‘The Beast’







Thirteen years passed by too fast

Marie Anne lived for the past

She missed her brother’s face

She missed his firm embrace

That had never been surpassed






Baptiste came to the girl 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 small room of dull brown decor

Bare and gloomy, smelled of rot

Dark and dreary, fearsome hot

With a greatcoat on the floor







Baptiste led in his prey so pretty

And showing not one trace of pity

Took away her orphanage dress

With no attempt at tenderness

He took away her chastity







‘Now that thou has done thy worst’

With this amria thy be cursed,

And guaranteed a place in Hell’

Marie Anne cast the potent spell

A clap of thunder burst







The matron damned the evil man

When Marie told her of his plan

As by the light of a bedside lamp 

She felt her shoulder growing damp

From the tears of Marie Anne 







Baptiste continued unabated
At his whim he copulated
Pinning her down with his arms
Ravishing her sweet young charms
The Beast would not be sated







Marie Anne heard the matron call
‘A visitor awaits thee in the hall’
‘Matron please bring him to me’
She had no doubt who it would be

She had no doubt at all







Baptiste opened the panelled door 

And closing it behind him, saw

Beneath the coat, a huddled shape

He laughed as he prepared for rape

‘Come hither my gipsy whore’







The greatcoat was flung hard away

But beneath it Marie did not lay

Instead a man who now stood tall

Baptiste took on a deathly pall

As Thad said ‘Start to pray’







Thad drew up his gleaming sword

‘Harm me not’ Baptiste implored

‘No wrong I’ve ever done to thee,

So who art thou to threaten me?’

Outside the thunder roared







Thad hissed ‘The kith and kin am I,

Of the girl thy chose to mortify

And for my dear young sister’s sake, 

Vengeance I have come to take,

‘Tis time for thee to die’







‘Please slow thy haste sir, I appeal,

There’s something that I must reveal,

Gold pieces I have very many,

To thee I will give every penny,

Sir, do we have a deal?’







‘Should thy galbi be a hundred fold,

Justice can’t be bought and sold

Thy money will not sheath this blade,

My sister’s honour I’ll not trade,

For a bag of tainted gold’







‘And now I must fulfill my quest,

And send thee to be Satan’s guest’

And as the mighty thunder roared

Thad thrust hard upon his sword

Deep into Baptiste’s chest







Baptiste screamed in the flames of Hell

In a damp and dingy stinking cell

Bare and gloomy, smelled of rot

Dark and dreary, fearsome hot

He remembered a gypsy spell 







So Marie Anne’s new life began 

She leaned down from the caravan

To kiss one that she loved so well

And on the matron’s face there fell

The tears of Marie Anne