Lorraine

Charles Kingsley (1819–75)


“Are you ready for your steeplechase, Lorraine,
Lorraine, Lorrče?
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.
You’re booked to ride your capping race to-day at
Coulterlee,
You’re booked to ride Vindictive, for all the world to
see,
To keep him straight, and keep him first, and win the
run for me.”
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.
She clasp’d her newborn baby, poor Lorraine, Lorraine,
Lorrče,
Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Barum, Baree.
“I cannot ride Vindictive, as any man might see,
And I will not ride Vindictive, with this baby on my
knee;
He ’s kill’d a boy, he ’s kill’d a man, and why must
he kill me?”

“Unless you ride Vindictive, Lorraine, Lorraine,
Lorrče,
Unless you ride Vindictive to-day at Coulterlee,
And land him safe across the brook, and win the blank
for me,
It ’s you may keep your baby, for you ’ll get no keep
from me.”

“That husbands could be cruel,” said Lorraine,
Lorraine, Lorrče,
“That husbands could be cruel, I have known for
seasons three;
But oh, to ride Vindictive while a baby cries for me,
And be kill’d across a fence at last for all the world
to see!”

She master’d young Vindictive—O, the gallant lass was
she! 20
And kept him straight and won the race as near as near
could be;
But he kill’d her at the brook against a pollard
willow tree;
Oh! he kill’d her at the brook, the brute, for all the
world to see,
And no one but the baby cried for poor Lorraine, Lorrče.