Lorna Moon (A Ballad)

Lorna Moon (born Nora Helen Wilson Low; 16 June 1886 - 1 May 1930) In echteen hunner an echty sax, in Strichen toon wis born A quine wi een o broon an green, an flecks o gowd like corn Wee Nora Helen Wilson Low tae daein weel wis thirled Her faither Chae wis a plaisterer, fa'd wirked aroon the warld He'd plied his trade in Canada, Sooth Africk's diamond mines Chicago, San Franscisco, aa throwe maist excitin times At hame he bigged an ae roomed neuk, twis caad ten Downing Street An there this socialist entertained his fiers throwoot the week Her mither's name wis Margaret, she keepit rooms tae hire She beat the bairns e'en flang a weel lued dollie in the fire There Nora larned the violin fin she wis verra wee An brakk her neb fin lowpinheich bi thinkin she cud flee In nineteenhunner an seeven, William Hebditch cam tae bide An verra sune he tuik the bonnie Nora as his bride He wis a watchmakker tae trade, weel daein, o gweed cheer He bore her aff tae Yorkshire, an their son wis born neist year Bit twa years on, in Britain, fowk wir offered lan tae ain Awa in hyne Alberta, fur ten dollars, bigg yer hame! Sae frae her gran hoose she'd tae flit an be a frontier wife Humf water frae the burnies an takk on the frontier life At nicht coyotes skirled, while in her cabin Nora shook She cad the biggin Tumbledoon, her neb ay in a buik An in the local grocery store anither cheil she met His name wis Walter Moon, he vowed her sorras she'd forget She gaed tae Winnipeg, wi him, a note left in the shack It said ‘Will dear I'm gaun awa an I'm nae camin back. I've left oor Billy wi ye, fur he likes ye mair nur me Ye'll finn him at a neebor's hoose, he'll keep ye company' She cheenged her name tae Lorna Moon, a secunt bairn she bore In nineteen fowerteen, she caad her Mary Leonore At sax month auld, tae Yorkshire, wi a nurse the bairn wis sent For Lorna wis a journalist, on thonher time wis spent Fin three years passed, the couple meeved tae Minneapolis An Lorna's life as a screiver wis a godsend tae the press Syne Cecil B. De Mille's play Male & Female wis on stage Based on a tale bi Barrie, fegs, thon wirk wis aa the rage. Noo Lorna screived the director, o his cheenges makkin fun An back cam a repon that said ‘Weel, show us foo it's done Puir Walter Moon wis left his lane, she packed her bags an gaed As script quine an screenscreiver, sure her fortune wid be made At Hollywood, her lover wis William de Mille himsel An verra sune wi anither bairn, the Strichen lassie fell Bit syne she wis afflictit bi a hoast that gart her grue T.B., the fite plague creepit up inbye her breist tae brew Noo tae a sanitorium tae Doctor Pottinger The pregnant lassie gaed, an there he tuik gweed care o her His best advice wis tae abort the foetus in the wame Bit Lorna winted it shouldhae the famous De Mille's name She couldnae even haud her son, fur he wis wheeched awa Fur fear he'd catch the smit an like a snawdrap fade an faa In Neil McCarthy's car the bairn wis plunked anonymous An orphan bairn, tae seem tae show that naebody gaeda cuss Noo Charlie Chaplin nae langsyne, in his movie caad the Kid Had the selfsame plot an byline, as the new born bairnie did The littlin aff tae Castelar Crechwis taen awa tae bide The boord's director plottin there tae be his help an guide Twis Lorna's luver's brither's wife, a leddy o gweed faith An she adopted the bairnie fur she kent his parents baith They caad him Richard, until he wis thirty three years auld At last the secret o his birth tae him they quickly tauld Bit ay his secret mither screived, fur screivin wis her dream The Doorweys in Drumorty peintit mony a waesome scene In Graciosa Drive, she bedd owerluikin Hollywid Bit ay the fite plague creepit back nae maitter fit she did At Hillcrest Sanitorium, she lay an hoastit bluid Bit niver tint her bonnieness, the derk waves roon her heid ‘I'll be a better quine, ' she said ‘bit mebbe I'll be worse It isnae in me tae be gweed except inside a hearse' At nicht anither luver cairriet Lorna frae her bed Tae woo her on the sandy beach, an there sweet naethins said The jasmine scentit nicht she lued twis wild as hersel Wee Nora Low frae Strichen, Nor East Scotlan's bonnie belle Awa in nineteen twenty nine the Wall Street market fell Fowklowped frae windaes, ruined, fin their shares they cudna sell Sub heidins statit on thon day that Lorna Moon wis deid She read her ane obituaries, an unca thing indeed Afore her time wis ower herDark Starwis a success An made intae a film sae weel twis likit bi the press In Albuquerque, Mexico, the fite plague creepit back An Daith steppt forrit saftly, an pit Lorna in his pack Her luver, Everett Marcy, pledged he'dbring her ashes hame Tae scatter them frae Mormond hill, the place frae far she came Her faither an her luver tramped up heather in the sun Like fermers sowin corn, an sae wis Lorna's story done The great fite shelt o quartz laid oot on Mormond'sbonnie side The ruined Hunter's Lodge, wis far thon restless stoor wid bide An gin ghaists wauk the yird again fin fowk hae ceased tae be She's watchinyet the shiftin waves ootower the braid North Sea