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Over the decades since the murders of Abby and Andrew Borden, many have set their theories and ideas about the family and their relationships to music and verse.  Here is one more offering, by this blogger to add to the effort!

 Ode to Domestic Harmony 

It was the day of the murder and all through the house,

 Tension mounted twixt Lizzie and Andy’s plump spouse.

Emma, in Fairhaven, with Brownells in their nest,

Closed weary eyes and longed for some rest.

With heavy feet dragging, Bridget downward did trod,

Doing as she was told with one tired, resigned nod.

Seizing bucket and pole out the doorway she clattered,

Got sick in the yard, but what did that matter?

Spying a friend standing close to the fence,

She sauntered right over without much of a wrench.

Chatting and smiling in the warm August sun,

It sure beat the washing and was surely more fun.

 Uncle Morse had departed, so peculiar and thin,

To visit the Emerys and their visiting  kin.

While no one would say that he was a glutton,

He thought “Oh, Dear Lord, please no more mutton!”

Andrew had left to count all his money,

Lizzie was quiet, and  he thought that was” funny”.

He sighed as he walked to the banks just downstreet,

And felt faintly ill, “It must be the heat”.

Abby trudged on upward with her clumps of false hair,

And hitched up her skirts as she mounted the stair.

Already defeated and without a friend,

She looked up to Heaven thinking “How will it end?”