Ballad of Mary Ann Cotton
Lyrics
There’s a man lying mangled in the shaft of a mine
Commonplace tragedy, ominous sign
There’s an 8-year-old daughter damaged through grief
On a tide from which she will find no relief
There’s something stirring on the grey North Sea
That blows an ill wind that seeps inwardly
Into the heart of one who has lost
And only she knows the depth of that cost
There’s a cunning, seductive manipulator of men
Weaving her webs again and again
A lying predator, behind a dark veil
A forked-tongued snake with a poisonous tail
There’s insurance money under the bed
There’s a grave in which another husband lies dead
There’s an angel of death another child in its arms
While a temptress continues to peddle her charms
There’s a tide of suspicion rolling around
There are bodies exhumed from under the ground
Bairns and husbands disturbed from their rest
As the spider is trapped and placed under arrest
There’s a baby suckling on a mother’s breast
In a crowded courtroom full of unrest
Doomed from birth to become stigmatised
The motherless child of a murderess despised
There’s letters being written from a cold prison cell
In deliberate strokes, self-pity to sell
In a petulant hand to apportion the blame
On anyone else who does not bear her name
There’s a Sunday school bell tolling the doom
Of one for whom it no longer has room
But has desperately placed her fate in God’s hands
But God has forsaken the ground where she stands
There are ministers praying as she bitterly weeps
As a claim of innocence she constantly keeps
There’s a press-gang waiting to write up their prose
Eager to pounce like a murder of crows
There’s a scaffold erected behind prison walls
There’s a long final walk as destiny calls
There’s an executioner with inhumane eyes
As he calculatingly assesses his prize
Black is the widow, black are the eyes
Black is the dress on the one doomed to die
Black is her hair and black is her heart
Black is the night to which she must now depart
There’s a black widow hanging from a fine thread
On its back an hour-glass of blood red
There’s a dark angel hanging from a short rope
Spinning and choking on a day without hope
There’s a vengeful God in the Heaven’s above
Meting out justice with anger and love
There are 21 new stars born to shine
While a red moon mourns a ruined blood-line
There’s a group of children skipping to rhymes
That tell the tale of her wicked crimes
While her restless dark spirit howls in Hell for release
From the sorrows from which she can never find peace
(Gary Miller)
© 2019 Whippet Records
Copyright Control MCPS/PRS
Illustration by Helen Temperley © 2019
Notes
This song, written about notorious serial killer Mary Ann Cotton from County Durham, is part of the 'Northern Grit' project.
Other songs from 'Northern Grit' include: 'A Dream of Joseph Skipsey', ''Blücher', 'Hands and Mind', 'I Can and I Will', 'It Will Be All Right', 'Show Me', 'Unlocked Gate'.
Currently Unreleased
Video Clips
Gary performing 'Ballad of Mary Ann Cotton'
live at Whippet HQ, Ferryhill, England on 7th April 2019.
live at Whippet HQ, Ferryhill, England on 7th April 2019.