#a couple asterisks 'all' I also hear as 'do' bc of the syllable connection and both kind fit 'all' made more sense to me

[whiteshipnightjar]

Marie At The Mill

by Joanna Newsom

(HORNS)

I see you coming down in your cherry wool coat bare to the throat like Marie at the Mill. Where might you go from your lowly amour where they hoard you like gold in the hill.

Sent from my side to the cold riverbed, Marie, you go ahead; I will follow in time. The work keeps me here with a few pioneers magnetizing a permanent line. Save for the coat, there was nothing to bring. It was found you could sing, you were sent to the Bay. At Seminary, you passed and were buried; I rose there the very next day.

For if you weren’t born at the right time, my dear, just keep trying and trying and trying again. As for the end, it is not what you fear, you’re just slipping a glove from your hand.

Like this: down, down, down, down your wrist down, down; the list of lives, husbands and wives, dozens of times around again and then,

out of all of the girls, heartbroke, alone, and to rot, and called me the heir of Melba and myth. I crossed the Atlantic, from Boston to Nantes on the hand of my dear Mr. Smith.

Then came his talk of perdition and sin like a cold winter wind come to blow me away. I was impatient and sought education on stage and the Champs-Élysées. I left on my own with the clothes on my back and my old name intact, and my own bills to pay. I left him in debt with his feathered grisette; alouette, je te plumerai. I had the honor to sing Mendelssohn on the Ternary lawn for the brave and the few. But it was my joy to be called to Bayreuth from who toiled a slave comes anew.

They prance for gentler worthiness and everyone who ruled a king may wander in rags for things done and undone and done and undone.

I wed Mr Russak, a fan, and producer of amateur music. All embedded in pearls, held court in Newport, amused myself before I threw off the veil of the world. And when in time he sank under the sea, what he deeded to me was enough to begin as secretary and past emissary; I rose through the ranks from within.

My carnelian snuff bottle carved as a peach and a small sterling wagon — well, that was part of the set — consigned to the waters of Elliot Beach, left behind with your Pall Mall Gazette.

And it was not luck, put me there by his side when the old Colonel died, and the adepts appeared, and all* what they share, well, you had to be there but I’ll tell you if you wanna hear.

Henry, your work here is done, Annie will carry it on, Marie, write it all down, ‘til the keynote is found. You run it up and down and round and round and round and

so I filled as I could all the gaps as a pilfer for good and only good, through some lapse that I’ve long forgot I wanna write to King and only transcribe the thoughts of the boy from the beach with his pervious soul. Poor little teacher got you, do it as you’re told. And even so there is danger here in the sun. Honey, tell me what has Sirius done? I hear it all but I cannot assume none may I follow to the Octagon Room; the boy from the beach beckoned and called, Lord, he’ll leave and unhand it all.

I see the clock on the wall, I hear the knock on the door but that is all.

(HORNS)

And when my work here is through, Henry, will you find me anew a little stranger, my old friend, hold me and win me again and again and again, all over again, all over again, all over again.

There’s a lodger in me larger than me saw the cross in the garden where your process came to be and cut you free, though your father tried to reunite with you and yet* he was allowed to die. Despite the lies, we are grist in the mill.

On the list I am Helios still, Sun-Wielder, Brunhilde, spun in shields, running round, and round, and round, and round, and round, and round, and round.