Under a Tree on the Grounds, Thursday Afternoon
Should anyone chance to walk by this particular tree on the school grounds, they might see Anne standing there, a knobby branch clutched tightly in both hands and a slightly manic look in her eyes.
Anyone who chanced to listen a little more closely might begin to understand why.
As I was going to the Faire of Dingle,
One fine morning last July,
And walking down the road before me,
A red-haired girl I chanced to spy.
Come ride with me, my red-hair maiden,
My donkey, he can carry two.
She looked at me, her eyes a-twinklin'
And her cheeks a rosy hue.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary,
Her and I will soon be wed.
We'll see a priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in a marriage bed.
"Why, I never!" raged Anne, quite unmindful of the seeming absurdity that was her railing at the empty air. "You've no right to say such appalling things to me . . . insulting my dignity and my hair all at once!"
Evidently something found her protests amusing, as the song continued . . .
Well the red hair girl, she kept a'smiling,
"Young man, I'll come with you," she said.
We'll forget the priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in Murphy's shed.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary,
Her and I will soon be wed.
We'll forget the priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in Murphy's shed.
"Oh," she sputtered, "oh!" If only she had a slate handy, and a corporeal head over which to break it, it might be a halfway adequate vent for her feelings.
But as she had neither of those things, passers-by might see a red-haired girl, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with indignation, flailing aimlessly at the empty air with a tree branch.
[OOC: Mostly establishy since I'm off to work in a little bit, but will be back to pick up pings tonight if anyone wants to stop by and ping scandalized!Anne. The song is Red Haired Mary by Sean McCarthy.]
Anyone who chanced to listen a little more closely might begin to understand why.
As I was going to the Faire of Dingle,
One fine morning last July,
And walking down the road before me,
A red-haired girl I chanced to spy.
Come ride with me, my red-hair maiden,
My donkey, he can carry two.
She looked at me, her eyes a-twinklin'
And her cheeks a rosy hue.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary,
Her and I will soon be wed.
We'll see a priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in a marriage bed.
"Why, I never!" raged Anne, quite unmindful of the seeming absurdity that was her railing at the empty air. "You've no right to say such appalling things to me . . . insulting my dignity and my hair all at once!"
Evidently something found her protests amusing, as the song continued . . .
Well the red hair girl, she kept a'smiling,
"Young man, I'll come with you," she said.
We'll forget the priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in Murphy's shed.
Keep your hands off Red Haired Mary,
Her and I will soon be wed.
We'll forget the priest this very morning,
Tonight we'll lie in Murphy's shed.
"Oh," she sputtered, "oh!" If only she had a slate handy, and a corporeal head over which to break it, it might be a halfway adequate vent for her feelings.
But as she had neither of those things, passers-by might see a red-haired girl, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with indignation, flailing aimlessly at the empty air with a tree branch.
[OOC: Mostly establishy since I'm off to work in a little bit, but will be back to pick up pings tonight if anyone wants to stop by and ping scandalized!Anne. The song is Red Haired Mary by Sean McCarthy.]