The Tower of St. Maur
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad ;
I'll build in two's and three's ;
And I'll throw you a red, red apple in,
When the stones reach to your knees.
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad ;
I'll lay the stones in haste ;
And I'll throw you the forester's whistle
When they reach above your waist.
"You'll stand so still and stark, my lad,
You'll watch the stones that rise ;
And I'll throw you in your father's sword,
When they reach above your eyes.
"And if you tire o' the play, my lad.
You've but to raise a shout :
At the least word o' your father's mouth,
I'll stop and pluck you out."
The gipsy-man build quick and light,
As if he played a play.
And the child laughs with a frighted laugh.
And the tower ceases to sway.
St. Maur stares out of his bloodshot eyes.
Like one that's well nigh mad ;
The tower stands fast, and the stones rise high
About the little lad.
"O father, father, lift me out !
The stones reach over my eyes,
And I cannot see you now, father.
So swift the walls uprise.
"O father, lift me out, father!
I cannot breathe at all.
For the stones reach up beyond my head.
And it's dark down i' the wall."
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