. Monologues. J, J» d* Zhe Ibeart of a Woman. Zbc Ibeart of a Woman aint much of a story,bout Jim an me, but ifyou want to hear it Idjust as soon tell you, think Id like to, for itsbeen buried in my heart, away from allhuman beins, for so long. Sometimes, when I cant seem tobear it no longer, I go down to the seaat the bottom of these cliffs, an I whis-per it all out to the waves, an theyseem to listen an understand, an sorto comfort me. Lonesome here, sir? Oh no! Imused to it, one thing, I spose. Ive 55 flDonologues lived here so long alone everythin seemsto talk to me. An on some o the
. Monologues. J, J» d* Zhe Ibeart of a Woman. Zbc Ibeart of a Woman aint much of a story,bout Jim an me, but ifyou want to hear it Idjust as soon tell you, think Id like to, for itsbeen buried in my heart, away from allhuman beins, for so long. Sometimes, when I cant seem tobear it no longer, I go down to the seaat the bottom of these cliffs, an I whis-per it all out to the waves, an theyseem to listen an understand, an sorto comfort me. Lonesome here, sir? Oh no! Imused to it, one thing, I spose. Ive 55 flDonologues lived here so long alone everythin seemsto talk to me. An on some o these gran moon-light nights I go out—way out on thefarthest-juttin cliff—an sit there anjust look an look out over that water,till somethin inside o me seems to giveway an I cant help a-cryin. An justsmall an faint like I can hear the fiddlesway down in the village where they aredancin. But Id rather stay up here alone,where every blade o grass an everyleaf pears to know me. Taint alwaystalkin that makes you most , sir, Ive l
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