Poor Alice

POOR ALICE

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Alice travels far and wide,

Upon her horse she rides,

She hikes her skirts to see,

What hides up in the trees.



Poor Alice, time to run,

For this one is not fun,

But Alice is too late,

Pain is her only fate.



Her horse he took away,

Shot it, without delay,

With Alice he began,

To beat her, did this man.



Before she fell asleep,

Before the blood could seep,

He took from such a mess,

Her battered, blood-soaked dress.



To his home, he soon went,

Left Alice, broken, bent,

Tired, he sought his wife,

There he slept, without strife.



But on that night, every single path cried,

For Alice no longer travels far or wide.