A Woman of Thirty

Excerpt

  I. The Old Woman
  (A Morality Play)

  The Old Woman
  (A Morality Play)

  Characters:
  The Woman
  The House
  The Doctor
  The Deacon
  The Landlady

  Doctor:
  There is an old woman
  Who ought to die—

  Deacon:
  And nobody knows
  But what she's dead—

  Doctor:
  The air will be cleaner
  When she's gone—

  Deacon:
  But we dare not bury her
  Till she's dead—

  Landlady:
  Come, young doctor
  From the first floor front,
  Come, dusty deacon,
  From the fourth floor back,
  You take her heels
  And I'll take her head—

  Doctor and Deacon:
  We'll carry her
  And bury her
  If she's dead!

  House:
  They roll her up
  In her old, red quilt,
  They carry her down
  At a horizontal tilt,
  She doesn't say "Yes"
  And she doesn't say "No,"
  She doesn't say, "Gentlemen,
  Where do we go?"

  Doctor:
  Out in the lot
  Where ash-cans die,
  There, old woman,
  There shall you lie!

  Deacon:
  Let's hurry away
  And never look behind
  To see if her eyes
  Are dead and blind,
  To see if the quilt
  Lies over her face—
  Perhaps she'll groan
  Or move in her place!

  House:
  The room is empty
  Where the old woman lay,
  And I no longer
  Smell like a tomb—

  Landlady:
  Doctor, deacon,
  Can you say
  Who'll pay rent
  For the old woman's room?

* * * * * * *

  House:
  The room is empty
  Down the hall,
  There are mice in the closet,
  Ghosts in the wall—
  A pretty little lady
  Comes to see—

  Woman:
  Oh, what a dark room,
  Not for me!

  Landlady:
  The room is large
  And the rent is low,
  There's a deacon above
  And a doctor below—

  Deacon:
  When the little mice squeak
  I shall pray—

  Doctor:
  I'll psycho-analyse
  The ghosts away—

  Landlady:
  The bed is large
  And the mattress deep,
  Wrapped in a feather-bed
  You shall sleep—

  Woman:
  But here's the door
  Without a key!
  An unlocked room
  Won't do for me!

  Doctor:
  Here's a bolt—

  Deacon:
  And here's a bar—

  Landlady:
  You'll sleep soundly
  Where you are!

  Woman:
  Good night, gentlemen,
  It's growing late,
  Good night, landlady,
  Pray don't wait!
  I'm going to bed,
  I'll bolt the door
  And sleep more soundly
  Than ever before!

  Deacon:
  Good night, madam,
  I'll steal away—

  Doctor:
  Glad a pretty lady
  Has come to stay!

  House:
  She lights a candle—
  What do I see!
  That cloak looks like
  A quilt to me!
  She climbs into bed
  Where long she's lain,
  She's come back home,
  She won't leave again.
  She's found once more
  Her rightful place,
  Same old lady
  With a pretty new face.
  Let the deacon pray
  And the doctor talk,
  The mice will squeak
  And the ghosts will walk.
  There's a crafty smile
  On the landlady's face,
  The old woman's gone,
  But she's filled her place...!