The Ballad of Marie Annette
Not one with heart could brave a glimpse,
See the troubling vignette;
A sorry view-commiserate
The poor Marie Annette.
She traveled with the carnival,
Born on a bed of straw;
Dreamt to her own cradle songs-
Marie’s life ended Ma’s.
Raised by those who sought to please
The fair-goers’ demands,
Clown or hooper couldn’t she be
With gorgeous circumstance.
“Ah, trapeze then!” Ringmaster slurred,
With coinage in his eyes,
Not once did any stoop to fear
Their shiny toy’s demise.
For years she swung above the crowd
Her hair a ruby blaze,
But skill was none to looks and so
The crowd saw frame and face.
Ringmaster glimpsed the girl’s allure
And sloshed a wicked threat:
“She’ll be our star for wide and far,
‘The Doll Marie Annette!’”
Plaything she was it aches to say
For young and old alike,
Consumers pulled the strings that kept
Miss Annette out of psych.
That ward ought to have been her home
I quote the paperboy:
“Marie Annette has blown her top!
The fair is not the same!”
A quandary surrounds her crime
But some preach what they saw:
She changed, estranged from a pure soul,
No longer hemmed nor hawed.
A flighty act above the stands
More wild than before,
Ruby embers burned too bright
And rapture was no more.
The pure abused turned sour, unkempt,
Too many strings in debt;
It’d be a dare to try and greet
That mad Marie Annette.
Backstage disputes were kept hush-hush
Alas, I know for sure:
Ringmaster saw no more allure
saw no more use for her.
Regard had kept his show a-turn
And it was not in flow,
So quick as whip the choice was made
The night before The Show.
Tonight and then the fair would move
Drive to the next address;
Lights were turned upon extra on
The perfect ring of death.
Now strings are not made to be pulled,
Death not to be forgot!
Perhaps a light was lit too bright?
Not all are always caught.
The shock was heard throughout the crowd
A glint in one man’s eye-
An issue that still warrants haunt:
Two smiles faced the sky.
“Goodbye, our sweet Marie Annette
We know it was the Fame!”
I think too soon they ceased to cry.
The fair is not the same.
Jade Pretell has always had a passion for telling stories, prone to writing her own material outside of school assignments. If not creating narratives through writing, Pretell enjoys conveying the emotions of her tales through music, specifically on the piano or ukulele. Throughout her life so far, music and writing have gone hand in hand in developing what she creates, and Pretell currently continues to learn from the art forms at Los Osos High School.