Down on Patterson Avenue,

With a childlike vision coming into view,

Marching with the drummer boy behind,

He’s much older now, he wears his hat

and gave up wine,

he beats the drum for Madame Farm.

That smell of sweet lilac drifting through

The warm afternoon like the City Of God,

like a star.

The kids out in the road,

racing bicycles down the steep hill,

to the rushing creek,

where the frogs chant their hymn,

Me sitting on my sofa playing games of chance,

looking at my farm,

when I fall into a trance

With my folded arms and piles of books,

I glance into the eyes of Madame Farm,

I’m getting weaker and my knees begin to sag.

And she turns red, and whispers to me,

Lord Have Mercy, I think its those people,

come to sign on the dots,

and then she turns, drops everything she gots,

Down into the meadow below,

Say goodbye to Madame Farm,

Dry your eye for Madame Farm,

Dancing, music all around the barns,

As I dry my eyes, get up to leave,

She shouts out loud, and says,

hey love, you forgot your camera

Down home, on the long path,

Gotta go, got to say good bye to Madame Farm

And the love, the love, the love,

She loves to love.

– Thanks to Van Morrison for the inspiration from “Madame George,” it rang through my head at Bedlam Farm, where it broke my heart a bit today to see her all dressed up with nowhere to go.