1861 - 1896
Lies! Lies! All damnable lies!
I know the injustice of malicious gossip.
I know the outrage of a loose evil tongue.
In life, I was Lucy Swain, the maligned!
I was Lucy Swain, the indignant!
In truth, I was Lucy Swain, the law-abiding, god-fearing victim
Who resided over on Milton Avenue
With her bent-over heart-broken mother.
In fact, I was Lucy Swain, the innocent weeping victim
Of a thousand cruel hypocritical stares.
And so, let me shout it out
As loudly as my silent soul can,
From my deep grave here in Clark Cemetery:
I never set foot, not once, on Rideout Ranch!
I never set eyes on the winking blue orbs
Of the devastatingly handsome George Towne,
That philandering cad with the fine derby hat.
I never tasted the warm pulsating kisses from his sweet-tasting, pursed lips.
And I never felt the caressing electric touch
Of his firm groping fingers upon my bosom,
There, under the old cedar tree on Rideout Ranch!
Lies! All lies!
And as God is my witness
I never spent even one gloriously romantic moment
In the embrace of the incredibly strong arms
Of the sexy man married to Fannie Towne!