LINES, ON THE BODY OF A GERMAN BROOM GIRL

LINES, ON THE BODY OF A GERMAN BROOM GIRL, WHICH WAS FOUND A FEW YEARS AGO, UNDER A HEDGE, NEAR BESCOTT HALL, IN THE VICINITY OF WALSALL.

Poor Rambler from a distant land !
Her case demands a tear;
She died without a friendly hand,
Her fainting head to rear.

Unknown, unnoticed and forlorn,
She drooped, she fell, she died;
No covert but the rugged thorn,
Her sickly form to hide.

She long had roamed o‘er England shore,
And sang “ Come buy a broom ;"
And now her wanderings are o’er,
She’s in the “ Land of gloom."

The dewy grass was her death-bed,
The Moon beheld her die ;
And midnight breezes as they fled,
Alone breathed forth a sigh.

Some dire disease ran through her veins,
And stopped life’s vital flow;
Unpitied, she endured her pains,
And sighed unheard in woe.

Her merry song and tambourine,
Our streets no longer cheer:
Ye Sister Pilgrims, at her shrine,
Bequeath to her a tear.

Written by George Evans

First published in 1847 by the Walsall publisher William Griffin.