Transcript

Ipswich · Ririro.com - Poetry

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Speaker 1: Ipswich. In Ipswich, nights are cool and fair, and the
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Speaker 1: voice that comes from the yonder sea sings to the
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Speaker 1: quaint old mansions there of the time, the time that
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Speaker 1: used to be. And the quaint old mansions rock and groan,
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Speaker 1: and they seem to say in an undertone, with half
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Speaker 1: a sigh and with half a moan, it was, but
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Speaker 1: it never again will be. In Ipswich. Witches weave at
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Speaker 1: night their magic spells with impish glee. They shriek and
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Speaker 1: laugh in their demon flight from the old main house
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Speaker 1: to the frightened sea, And ghosts of old come out
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Speaker 1: to weep over the town that is fast asleep, and
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Speaker 1: they sob and they wail as on they creep. It was,
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Speaker 1: but it never again will be. In Ipswich. Riseth heartbreak
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Speaker 1: hill over against the calling sea, and through the knights,
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Speaker 1: so deep and chill, watcheth a maiden constantly watcheth alone,
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Speaker 1: nor seems to hear over the roar of the waves,
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Speaker 1: and near the pitiful cry of a far off year.
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Speaker 1: It was, but it never again will be. In Ipswich.
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Speaker 1: Once a witch I knew, an artless saxon witch. Was
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Speaker 1: she by that flaxen hair and those eyes of blue
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Speaker 1: sweet was the spell she cast on me Alas, but
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Speaker 1: the years have wrought me ill, and the heart that
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Speaker 1: is old and battered and chill seeketh again on Heartbreak
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Speaker 1: Hill what was, but never again can be. Dear Anna,
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Speaker 1: I would not conjure down the ghost that cometh to
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Speaker 1: solace me. I love to think of old Ipswich Town,
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Speaker 1: where somewhat better than friends were we, For with every
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Speaker 1: thought of the dear old place, cometh again the tender
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Speaker 1: grace of a Saxon witch's pretty face, as it was,
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Speaker 1: and is and ever shall be