Molly, you ve got to
put your saddle on tight.
You ve a red, red runner
for your final flight.
You re my only sister,
but a price is a price,
and he s not going lower
than my sister s life.

Would that I may go with you,
but a rule is a rule,
and the red, red rascal
is no sister s fool.
In the Putnam meadow
grows a poison lily,
if I were a smart girl,
I would take it with me.

So she s taken her dress up,
and she s tied back her hair
with a winsome ribbon
such as never were,
and she looked as brazen
as the scalded sea,
when the sun rips its favors
into morning s peace.

She s an auburn woman
on mahogany mare,
she was dressed full bloody
for the devil s despair.
And it was no lily
for his cardamom lips,
but for girl and filly,
and for hooves and hips.

All the plants in Putnam
grow a venomous green.
It was milk and money
made the meadows mean.
There she s taken her flower,
and she s borne it away,
under nettled fingers
that she daren t display.


From the Ipswich river,
riding easterly
to the black oak sapling,
where three fences meet,
and she knows he s waiting,
and she s down from her horse,
and per their agreement,
she is walking backwards.

Cloven hoofprints pressing
in a ravenous reel,
it s a phantom tarries
at her heart and her heel.
And with each foot stepping,
there s a petal has gone
from a noxious blooming
to a maidenly tongue.

Did the devil take her?
Did the devil decide
on a red carnation
or a red-blooded bride?
He s been up her ankle,
and he s taken his treat,
and he s eaten apples
full of poison lily.

Satan wears a flower
like a dandy heathen,
it s a fairer lily
than the one that she gave him.
He s a rowdy rascal
with a hearty complexion
it s the very color
of a lily stamen.