CHARLOTTE

There’s an old ballad called

"A Corpse Going to a Ball."

It's about Beautiful Charlotte

A farmer's daughter in Maine

Who, ignoring her mother's advice

To wrap herselfin a blanket, boards a sleigh

And arrives at the ball a frozen corpse.

Afterwards, the poem says,

She never spoke another word

This seems unremarkable,

Even tame. Better, perhaps,

Had she delivered a speech

About dressing appropriately

During a New England winter

Or danced a bit stiffly

(I expect a waltz would be difficult

But perhaps she could've managed

A clumsy jig).

With no help from me,

The ballad became popular.

You can still find in antique stores

Small naked porcelain dolls

Called Frozen Charlottes.