Young Charlotte
Young Charlotte lived by the mountainside in a cold and dreary spot
No other dwelling for miles around, except her father’s cot
And yet, on many a winter’s eve, young swains would gather there
For her father kept a social board and she was very fair
Her father loved to see her dressed prim as a city belle
She was the only child he had and he loved his daughter well
In a village some fifteen miles off there’s a merry ball tonight
Though the driving wind is cold as death their hearts were free and light
And yet how beams those sparkling eyes as the well-known sound she hears
And dashing up to her father’s door, young Charles and his sleigh appears
“Oh, daughter dear”, her mother says, “Those blankets round you fold
For it is a dreadful night to ride and you`ll catch your death of cold”
“Oh nay, oh nay”, young Charlotte said, and she laughed like a gypsy queen
“To ride with blankets muffled up one never would be seen”
Her gloves and bonnet being on, she stepped into the sleigh
And away they rode by the mountain side and it’s o’er the hills and away
There’s music in those merry bells as o’er the hills we go
What a creaking noise those runners make as they strike the frozen snow
And muffled faces silent are as the first five miles are passed
When Charles with few and shivering words the silence broke at last
“What a dreadful night it is to ride. My lines I scarce can hold”
When she replied in a feeble voice, “I am extremely cold”
Charles cracked his whip and urged his team far faster than before
Until at length five other miles in silence were passed o’er
“Charlotte, how fast the freezing ice is gathering on my brow”
When she replied in a feeble voice, “I’m getting warmer now”
And away they ride by the mountain side beneath the cold starlight
Until at length the village inn and the ballroom are in sight
When they drove up, Charles he got out and offered her his hand
“Why sit you there like a monument that hath no power to stand?”
He asked her once, he asked her twice but she answered not a word
He offered her his hand again, but still she never stirred
He took her hand into his own, twas cold as any stone
He tore the veil from off her face and the cold stars on her shone
And quick into the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore
Fair Charlotte was a frozen corpse and a word she ne’er spoke more
He took her back into the sleigh and quickly hurried home
And when he came to her father’s door oh how her parents moaned
They mourned the loss of their daughter dear while Charles wept o’er their gloom
Until at length, Charles died of grief and they both lay in one tomb
“Fair Charlotte“, which was based on an 1843 poem penned by Maine journalist, Seba Smith, entitled, “A Corpse Going to a Ball.”
These dolls are small and made purely of wax. The difference is, I sent out a call into the spirit world for any spirit that may have died in such a manner to inhabit the dolls. You will get frozen charlotte and Charles. Both in the same coffin. It's Macabre to say the least, but it makes for an interesting time. the faces you see will have bodies and lay in a coffin.
