Grandmother: By The Banks of the Vecht

By the banks of the Vecht I walked
My mouth closed up while others talked
And the breath of the wind did blow
Promising death, promising snow
And while all my hopes and dreams
Were sewn into my apron's bloodied seams
My mother held my hands and told me
We are doomed to wander lands
And that was my fate too
And there was nothing left to do
But flee and, as my grandmothers hands 
Wove a scrap of lace she fixed a 
Sad look on her face and muttered darkly:
" . . . and my Darling you will too.

The houses there were pretty
The windmills sang a ditty
As they cut through Holland's air
And the people stood and stared
At the tulip fields at dawn
My eyes filled up with sorrow's storm
And I never could believe that
The land could again be free.
The romance filled my soul
But olive trees running with gold
Flowed through my veins its true
And betrayed me to men who 
Would cut me through and through.

I walked the banks at three
Curfew following close to me
As the soldiers tipped their hats
To girls whose curls were blonde and pretty
While my hair was dark and frizzy
I wished the apple of my cheeks would
Be pinched pink as the flowers 
That grew above the barn where we
Would hide from the coming storm
But I was of a different kind to these
Liebchen who were free to smile and to be
But joy was not for girls like me.

Oh to walk by the banks of the Vecht
And dance a dance with lace
Over my face to stop the thieves
From stealing all my innocent and pretty.
But the Yeomen of the City 
They pinned warnings on my wall
That my happiness was doomed to fall. 

Instead I rock the cradle of my granddaughter
Telling her tales and fables
Of a land which grows in beauty but whose
Heart it did betray me
I want to walk you in the leaves
Of autumn under Utrecht's trees but 
Never will we go back to the river as it flows
Never will you see the tulips of Holland by the Sea
And weave the lace that once I hoped 
To give to my daughters daughter that
Instead it choked all the goodness that I saw
When I pushed off from Holland's shore. 

So dance a dance and sit a shiva
Let your heart become a quiver
Full of arrows of delight
And the beauty of the sight
Of the blood that in your veins that
Joins the rivers running through the plains 
Flows towards the sins of Allemagne 
And winds its way around washing
Tulips from the ground.