Jessie Poem by Chris Hudson

I can see dear Jessie now; trampin' like her dad
Over sodden heath of misty Mordake Moor
Wearing her brothers army boots he'd used in time of war,
And those woollen socks of mine I had never holed or sewn
(I never got them back she took them as her own) .

Appearance never was her prime concern
With tangled hair as black as coal
Never brushed or combed
Ah, but her rosy face and cool blue eyes
Was pleasing to us all
And Ma and Pa did not complain
So we felt just the same

Misty grey was Mordake Moor
And dangerous there to roam
On nights like this 'twere best
For us to miss the shortcut home

When dear Jessie disappeared
We knew it was the gulley
She'd fallen in a month before
Through carelessness and folly

There they found her
Dead and scarred
Body twisted, cut and marred.
We carried her down the sobbing street
Back to where the family weeped

Stretched out upon the satin cushion
Of an open wooden pall
Jessie lay so cold and grey
Beneath her mothers' shawl.

We knelt in prayer below the cross
And took the oath and vow
I gazed at Jessie once again
Forever tranquil now.