...Lord Byron Blues...

She was waiting for Lord Byron 

with an axe there in her hand. 

She was contemplating mayhem, 

should he pull up in the van. 

 

She was a dancer down at Club Foot 

when Lord Byron brought her shame. 

Half-sister loved a brother-man, 

and Augusta was her name. 

 

Transgressor, not deceiver... 

Each embrace love's true believer, 

for such guilt belongs to neither, 

yet grants fever should he leave her. 

 

And the van shall not arrive for 

lack of want or want for grease. 

Sweet Augusta's axe grows duller 

as her lover makes his peace. 

 

And yet she waits there for Lord Byron 

though he's gone to Miss Olonghi, 

with his face down muddy waters; 

breathing deep of Mississippi. 

 

Yea, transgressor, not deceiver... 

Each embraced love's true believer, 

for such guilt belonged to neither.

Granted him fever 

when he chose 

to leave her. 

 

©04 Jack David Hubbell