The Ballad of Ol' Green LbNA # 18340 (ARCHIVED)
|Placed Date||Sep 30 2005|
|Last Found||Mar 29 2006|
Ol’ Green worked on the Thompson place, a faithful servant to
Ms Smith, whose cottage on the grounds was home to just those two
One day Ms Smith was called to glory to join her long-lost Mr.
She called her only family, the grandson of her sister
“My husband left this world,” she said, “and all the sights we seen
Together, all the things we ever done, are gone – except Ol’ Green.
They’re only memories now, but they’re precious more than gold
You keep this boy, and make your own – for comfort when you’re old.”
She gave to him a keepsake, that spoke to her of days
spent traveling with her husband, of younger, carefree ways.
Ms. Smith she thought her nephew’s blood like hers was pure and strong
But selfishness and charm and greed long since had turned him wrong
She breathed her last, he turned his back, and grabbed her gift so sweet
He hopped into her treasured Green, and tossed it on the seat.
He took Ol’ Green and left her cottage ‘fore she was even cold
His mind set on a spree of theft – his plan both mean and bold.
The Thompson place was home to several ladies, living alone
Their tiny cottages dotted the hills, their havens and their homes
This wicked lad hoped to steal what little they had left
If familiar Ol’ Green came riding up, they never would suspect.
He would’ve liked the money, of that there is no doubt,
But most think just plain meanness was all this was about.
He headed toward these cottages, reckless and without care
But somehow, it was like Ol’ Green knew not to take him there
Instead the trail they followed led into the forest dark
Ol’ Green rattled, and sputtered, and jerked, even threw a spark.
The young man’s nerves rattled too, with every hump and bump,
He seemed to hear pursuers, and his guilty heart would jump
Thru twists and turns Ol’ Green kept rolling and lurching on ahead,
While voices, engines, footsteps, echoed in the young man’s head.
In near pitch black at last he reached the main drive by the lake
What was that noise? A shout? A shot? He felt his body shake.
He panicked and turned off to the right, fleeing from his greed
Somehow it seemed, without his help, Ol’ Green had picked up speed
Too late the young man realized his turn was ill-advised
For he still could hear the sounds behind, that spelled his sure demise
The cottages his greedy heart had sought were now ahead
But now his thoughts were only those of blackest fear and dread.
Another noise! This time he knew for sure he would be stopped!
He urged Ol’ Green past just one house, so slow they lurched and hopped!
To his left, another light came on, he knew he had to act
He turned right, back to the woods, with the cottage at his back.
And yet another setback plagued the young man’s awful flight
A sputter, a gasp – and trusty Ol’ Green would move no more that night.
The young man despaired, for sure he heard again the swift pursuit
He turned – were those searchlights? He’d run for it on foot!
He never even stopped to grab his dear old aunt’s keepsake
But fled instead on through the woods – his deadly last mistake.
When morning broke, police arrived, Ms Smith at last was found
But of her shiftless nephew, no trace was ever found.
They didn’t even find Ol’ Green – but then, they didn’t know to look
For there had been no chase at all that dark night in the wood
A guilty conscience brought him down, his fate held only doom
His riches – only the memories his aunt took into her tomb.