The Legend Of Deborah’S Rock

A rock sits by A stream. I don’t know why They call It Deborah’s Rock. I guess It’s not a “knock” At her. It’s hard and rough. ’Twas once Of prehistoric stuff And then ’Twas soft, on dit. For me I don’t know, see! They say An Indian red Once fell In love with Deb- O Rah, Then out, and why? Just guess! (Here you must cry) She jumped Right off that rock, Kersplash! My what a knock She had. She died (Here blink) And left Deep print, they think, On top The rock, from place She jumped, Of foot. Now space Forbids I dare deny She did, But this I try To see In vain, how she Could sink Her foot, you see, Into That rock so rough. Now this Is quite enough To give The lie to tale. But here, Lest this grow stale, I say I just believe The maid Weighed tons! Perceive? Or else Was built dame, bold, In pre- Historic mould When rock Was soft and then―― But there, “I dinna ken!”