The Valley of Maggie GreyA Poem by David Lewis PagetI
was born and bred in a valley, It
was all that I ever knew, The
cows grazed out in the pasture and The
cottages were few. I
grew surrounded by simple folk Who
toiled, and ate their fill, They
had one rule that they never broke, ‘We
don’t go over the hill!’ They
said, ‘Be happy with what you’ve got, A
pleasant country life, One
of the girls you play with here Will
grow to be your wife, We
have no use for the world out there With
its thrills, and shrill alarms, We’re
all content with the life we’ve spent On
our peaceful valley farms.’ The
school was simply a single room, We
had no need for more, At
best, the students were twenty two, At
least, they numbered four, They
didn’t study so very hard For
the life they lived outside, To
the best of my recollection there, Nobody
ever died. The
cemetery hadn’t been in use Since
eighteen eighty-nine, We
had no use for a doctor there For
our health was always fine. It
always seemed like a mystery But
one that was never told, Just
why in our recent history Did
no-one ever grow old? They
told me when I was twenty-one The
story of Maggie Grey, Her
headstone stood in the cemetery, The
last one from her day, She’d
gone as a girl to the mountain top Picked
flowers for a bride, But
when she staggered on down again, Something
had changed, inside. She
said she’d eaten a purple fruit From
a bush that fateful day, Whatever
it was, we didn’t know But
it changed her DNA, Of
all the children she bore from then They
all were still alive, Seven
were born to her husband Ben, And
then another five. They
intermarried to keep their blood As
pure as it was fine, And
everyone in the valley now Was
descended from her line, The
rest of the folk had died and gone As
it was, before her day, And
the very last to be buried there Was
poor old Maggie Grey. They
said that we never could leave there Just
in case our blood would spill, Or
mix with the common herd out there For
the mix would make us ill, They
said we lived in a paradise But
could never make it known, The
moment the world had heard of us They
wouldn’t leave us alone. My
girlfriend, Catherine Mundy was Rebellious
from the start, She
said she wanted to travel, that To
stay would break her heart. I
followed her on a moonlit night Where
she went, to work her will, And
called out, ‘Catherine, please come back, We
don’t go over the hill!’ She
stared at me from the mountain top, Plunged
down the other side, I
chased her then and I caught her, said: ‘Come
back, and be my bride!’ ‘I
have to go or I’ll never know All
the things in the world out there, But
when I’m done, I’ll come on back To
find if you really care.’ She
disappeared in the darkness, and I
wandered sadly home, They
sent a party to search for her But
then came back, alone. ‘She’s
down in that village of miners, We
just hope that she holds her tongue, If
she tells them the story of Maggie Grey, The
valley will be undone!’ A
year went by and the soldiers came And
they locked us in our farms, They
brought a team of physicians who Set
up in one of the barns, They
tested us and injected us, Took
blood on alternate days, They
wouldn’t say what they expected, But
they checked us with x-rays. Catherine
came back home as well, She
was cuffed to an army jeep, I
asked her what she had told them, it Was
then she began to weep. A
farmer died in the early Spring And
his wife went to her grave, The
first ones buried in paradise, In
a valley too late to save! David
Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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12 Reviews Added on September 17, 2013 Last Updated on September 17, 2013 Tags: country life, mystery, cemetery, DNA Author
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