Nestled silently in the ally,
My mouth shut but my ears open wide,
Prepared to unearth all the secrets,
That the townsfolk have all tried to hide.
Harriet's daughter is accused of being a witch,
But I saw her hiding in their back room,
Her mother scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees,
Cause her father had burned the broom.
I also saw Thomas O'Riley,
Sitting with the coloured-man by his side,
Sharing his coffee, and sharing a laugh,
Unfazed by the colour of his hide.
And then there was little Ida,
Who looks in the mirror day after day,
Consumed entirely by her identity,
While no remorse does she display.
So now you know all that's going about,
But remember you didn't hear it from me,
It's simply the killing words around and about,
I'm just helping them be set free.
(Gossip in the 1800s was slander and backstabbing observations so it was a very bad thing. P.S. what I wrote about her I don't agree with at all but that's just the way things were back then that's all)
