Doll Poem – A Doll For Annie
It was back in sixteen sixty four,
Poor Annie was left to crawl,
To her, outside would be no more,
Left alone searching for her doll.
The plague was rife in days gone by,
Poor Annie just eight years young,
Diseased, abandoned, left to die,
Amid the sewers where rodents ran.
Mary Kings Close, her home back then,
A medieval place below,
Here in Edinburgh, away back when,
Next of kin did not want to know.
For centuries… poor Annie, forgotten,
Never reached “the other side”,
Without her dolly, tearful, alone…,
Until one day, two worlds did collide.
It was some three hundred years or more,
Before poor Annie’s plight was known,
When on opening up those streets of gore,
That poor Annie’s plight was shown.
Her ghostly figure still nightdress clad,
Was seen, her tears were heard,
Still searching for her dolly…sad!,
So! that at last, she could ‘go to bed’.
One workman wept at this sad sight,
Went out and he purchased a doll,
Returned with it that very night,
Placed it where he’d last saw Annie crawl.
Now to this day still the tourists throng,
Each of them bringing dolls and stuffed toys,
They no longer hear cries, just, ‘Annie’s song’,
She’s at peace now… with an Angels voice.