Old Stones (Mary Anning)

(this might become a musical if someone wrote the music ...)

Hey, Mister,
won't you buy a stone?
It is very special:
a stone with a bone.
Won't you have a look right here?
You may look at it without any fear:
The bone you see is dry and dead,
still undivided from its bed,
the bed is the stone
and I found it alone.
I've no education
and low is my station.
What I found is amazing,
it is simply hair-raising:
a skeleton in a  stone
in a dangerous zone,
not far from this spot,
at the beach, which is odd.
When the waves are high
and reach the cliff,
I don't know why,
the bones get out, strange and stiff.
Then I have no time to lose,
to collect the bones and I drink some booze,
to get some courage und keep alive,
how will I - in the gale - survive?
My poor old dog, his name was Tray,
always, always did he obey,
he followed me
in storm and weather,
wel always walked and stayed together.
Alas, he was smitten by one of those stones.
Oh dear, how I sometimes hate those bones!

Hey, Mister, won't you buy such a stone?
The fossils I found
on dangerous ground
they will prove one day
what I have to say:
The earth is much older than 4000 years,
inspite of some silly religious fears.
And men will fight
with all their might,
but it's NOTHING they know,
at least not for sure,
it's me, who is poor,
I know much more
than they will ever think,
and if they knew
they would incredibly shrink.
They' ll write about me
when I'm as dead as my stones,
and they'll invent clever names
for my dinosaur-bones.

Hey Mister, the price is low,
for a fossil so nice from head to toe.
Hey, Mister, I have really no choice ,
please Mister, can you hear my voice?

Some day I'll write to the king or the queen,
I won't give up, if you know what I mean!
One day the most arrogant experts will see:
THE PAST HAD SECRETS REVEALED JUST BY ME!


Mary Anning (18OO-1847) found the Ichthyosaurus in l812 and later the Plesiosaurus in l823  -  and many other fossils. She lived  in the village
Lyme Regis in the South of England. There is now a little museum  in the village.  The "facts" in the poem are not quite correct, for  the sake of poetry.

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