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Home  »  An American Anthology, 1787–1900  »  1466 The Song of the Turnkey

Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Harry BacheSmith

1466 The Song of the Turnkey

I

IN the darkness deep

Of the donjon-keep,

Where the spiders spin their strands;

In the home of bats

And of old gray rats,

Are my lord the turnkey’s lands.

O, his task is light,

But from morn till night

On his rounds he needs must go.

It is tramp, tramp, tramp,

With his keys and lamp,

In the corridors down below.

Then it ’s ho! ho! ho!

I am king of the donjon deep.

There is music of bolt and chain

In the turnkey’s dark domain.

How merrily jingle the chains that cling!

How cheerily tinkle the keys that swing!

I am king—king—king of the donjon-keep!

2

Though the ravens scream

From the gallows beam,

It is little heed he takes;

And a song he roars

Through the corridors,

As his watchful round he makes.

None are false to him

In his kingdom grim,

For their monarch never sleeps.

O, there ’s none dare say

To the turnkey nay;

He is king of the donjon deeps.

Then it ’s ho! ho! ho! etc.