Eleanor Billington Poem by Ima Ryma

Eleanor Billington I be,
A Mayflower missus who came
To the new world with family,
To Plymouth colony by name.
I was a woman, one of four,
Surviving over that first year.
So first Thanksgiving all the more
Was a time and a place so dear.
My husband, John Senior, would die,
Hanged for murder being his crime.
I was whipped in the stocks - and why?
I slandered leaders at the time.

But for the sick, I tried to care.
And so Thanksgiving I did share.