The Yellow Lady

In our spacious mansion, My love and I, We hold the most outstanding portion Of happiness in the town, but there is no outcry For we are perfect newlyweds, Complete with a pregnancy, A girl most certainly Our guests exclaim with wonder At our generous hospitality, Our perfect picture, And sparkling mentality As reflective as our pond water, We reveal only perfection; All secrets hidden from detection One night there was a roaring party Almost bacchanalian in nature, For my husband was acting quite hearty Towards the ladies dressed in velour Dizzy from cinching corsets And bubbling brandy The bathhouse became quite handy There was a tremendous commotion, Bright lights And figures with foolish notions But when I awoke with a fight, I was fully alone Blood on my legs, As I scream and beg The diagnosis was foolish: I am only a woman Frightened by the bitter dish Of pregnant delusion Not even my love, My unfaithful one, Can make this undone Now once every lunation, There is a small duration When the yellow lady in the sky, She calls to me, a passerby, And speaks of our forsaken kind As she works within my mind, Planting dark deeds And gruesome needs During these nights I hold within me a fight Hypnotized by the allure Of my yellow lady, cloaked in azure Her adornments cast a radiating glow Over everything that falls beneath her, like snow The luminescence of her gaze Has left me in a bloody haze In our spacious room, My love sometimes visits Uncaring for my womb, He never sits I can feel our child She is restless But my love seems to care less He denies her presence Stubbornly, he has taken my part And fancies his whores for five pence Over my howling heart While the disease takes hold, Festers in my child, ignites And weaves her a heart of moonlight His mocking sneer Will surely vanish, when my lady appears As I hover over his sleeping form, His face I wish to deform Carving a grave I am only a slave My lady has visited thirteen times now, And our mansion is truly spacious As I dance in her nightly glow And act as her servant, always gracious I am always awaiting her unveiled face, For I am free now from pestering guests With their puffy chests Torn and gaping dumbly, Paying their homage to my lady, So that I can live free And care for my child, always in me