Baby Doe
Carol Klein
May 30, 1991

Baby Doe,
babies grow
and move to Central City.
First they tarry,
then they marry,
then they sing a ditty.

Horace Tabor,
years of labor:
still not sitting pretty.
One small favor
for your neighbor
lands you on committee.

Horace Tabor,
Silver Savior
left you feeling giddy.
Then your fall:
you lost it all.
Your deathbed quilt was gritty.

Baby Doe,
husbands go,
but once you were so pretty.
Now this cold
has made you old.
They left you death and pity.