In the marshy North Country there lived a lovely maiden fair,
Red was the colour of her hair,
Her eyes, they did like merry diamonds sparkle and shine,
She was innocent, pleasant and kind.

Catherine was her name,
Her father wanted for her riches and fame.

One day the Black Knight came riding up to her father’s gate,
He rode upon a white mare looking great,
He saw Catherine blush and her heart did fearfully flutter,
To him she was cream, honey and butter.

Catherine was her name,
Her father wanted for her riches and fame.

Said the Knight, “I have come to court your daughter of the auburn hair,
I have silver, I have gold, I have fabrics rare,
I have lands and servants and riches beyond compare,
I will buy lots of delightful dresses for her to wear.”

Catherine was her name,
Her father wanted for her riches and fame.

Said the girl, “Sir, thou art most kind but I care not for your divine riches,
Nor do I hunger for your clothes golden stitched,
For I have pledged my hand and heart to a Poet whose ink is red,
To him only will I happily wed.”

Catherine was her name,
Her father wanted for her riches and fame.

Catherine’s scheming father did sharply speak,
His nose curled like an eagle’s beak,
“On Sunday you will to church go and wear the Knight’s ring of gold,
Young lady, you’ll do as you’re told!”

Catherine was her name,
Her father wanted for her riches and fame.

In a misty village of the North Country there is a weeping river vast and deep,
They found Catherine and her Poet drowned in love’s sleep,
The church bells peal and weep out across the valley in the evening twilight,
Merry music floats and stains the tragic sight.

Catherine was her name,
Her father now cries and hangs his head in shame.



©Rangzeb Hussain