Hallow Even
Jack found the biggest pumpkin
I had ever seen, I swear,
He wheeled it in a barrow from
The local Pumpkin Fair,
‘And what d'you think you'll do with that? '
His sister said, Colleen,
‘I'll make a Jack O'Lantern, for
Tonight, it's Halloween! '
‘I betcha don't! ' ‘I bet I do! '
They said, in childish chat,
For Jack was two years older so
He gave her tit for tat,
‘I'm gonna dress up like a witch
And put a spell on you,
That thing will end up pumpkin soup
Mixed in my witch's brew! '
‘I'll put my clothes on inside out,
Walk backwards round the fire,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Coven
I had shot a couple of pheasants,
Was returning, deep from the wood,
Avoiding the crackle of branches, making
As little noise as I could,
The sky was clear and a harvest moon
Shone down through the old oak leaves,
When I saw the glimmer of candlelight
Shimmering through the trees.
I hid myself by the mighty oak
That had grown, six hundred years,
And heard the mutter of chanting there,
The rhyme of an evil verse,
I looked on out to a clearing where
The Devil and all were stood,
Thirteen candles and thirteen cloaks
And thirteen wearing a hood.
The Devil stood on an ancient stump
His face was hid from the mass,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Bus to Nevermore
The snow lay deep on the countryside
When they left to catch the bus,
Heading out to Milwaukee, first
They left New York in their dust,
The guys were happy and laughing then
To be off on the winter tour,
The pickers picked and the jokers joked
On the bus to Nevermore.
They'd had a couple of hits or three
And they'd topped the charts with one,
The kids were mad for their rock 'n roll
At each auditorium,
The towns they travelled were tiny towns
But the audiences roared,
They rocked Kenosha, then headed out
On the bus to Nevermore.
The heater failed and the bus, it froze
And the smiles then died away,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Day the Soldiers Came
The old man sat at his cottage door
As the soldiers came to town,
And laughed as the trucks went rumbling by,
Laughed as the soldiers frowned,
They carried their rifles high that day,
Marched past him by the score,
And scowled as the old man mocked them there,
As they waged their futile war!
The tanks sat threatening in the square,
The people stood in the street,
Watching the flood of khaki power,
The boots on the marching feet,
The General stood in his jeep that day
A scroll in his scrawny hand:
‘It's never too late to liberate
The folk in this tortured land! '
But then a ripple of laughter came
From the townsfolk standing there,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Witch at Arbor Low
Annie Trembles had met the witch
As she sat at Arbor Low,
Her tears were thick and her heart was sick,
She had no place to go,
She'd sought the old Stone Circle out,
And thought to divine the lore
Of the old Brigantes with their Druid chants;
Then she met Susannah Straw.
Susannah Straw was a wily witch
Who lived by her wits, and spells,
She kept the faith of her pagan race
Designing and dressing wells.
She'd conjure the odd love potion,
And she'd make the kine run dry,
If a body was too outspoken
She would give them the evil eye!
Annie had been heartbroken when
She heard that the blacksmith, Tom,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Dinner for Two
The island path had been overgrown
As they walked up from the pier,
A rickety wooden landing stage
With a sunken boat, quite near,
But the vines and trellises overhung
On the pathway to the house:
‘Your friend's not much of a gardener, '
Said Jack, to his new-wed spouse.
But Caitlin shrugged, and she smiled at him,
‘Once there, you'll find he's a dear,
He bought the island a year ago,
There's plenty to do out here! '
But Michael Morris was on the porch
As they staggered up on the hour,
His eyes had sparkled on greeting them,
But the edge of his mouth was sour.
She greeted him with a downcast eye,
Tried not to look in his face,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Corporal
The History Reconstruction Arm
Of the Ministry of Offence,
Had called me in for a meeting
With the Chiefs of Recompense,
They said they needed an agent,
Prepared to risk his all,
‘We have the technology waiting
Now we need to change the world.'
The shelves in the shops were empty
People fought for a loaf of bread,
Butter was unobtainable
And so was cheese, they said,
The ration cards have been in place
For fifty years or more,
The money was spent on the army, sent
To fight this terrible war.
Thank God it hasn't gone nuclear,
But they said that it never would,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Fortune Teller
He entered the Fortune Teller's tent
When nobody was around,
He didn't want to be seen in there
By the friends that would put him down,
The woman that sat there, heavily veiled
With her hands on a crystal ball,
Said: ‘Cross my palm with silver, sir,
The crystal reveals it all! '
He sat, but nervously sitting there
His mind had become a blank,
All of the questions he'd thought before
Had gone, and his spirits sank.
‘I see a lot of confusion here
The crystal echoes your mind,
What was the thing that you wanted most
Of the things that you sought to find? '
He dredged in the recess of his soul,
Just what did he really lack?
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Girl Who Came from the Moon
I noticed the glow through my window-pane,
A glow, set deep in the wood,
I thought that it might be a tree on fire
And it didn't enhance my mood,
I took the jeep, an extinguisher,
And stuck to the well worn trail,
My headlights picked out a wreck of a car
Ablaze, and a girl, quite pale.
Beyond the car was a meteorite
That glowed and pulsed in the dark,
The girl stood shivering, next to a tree
Reached out, and picked at the bark,
She wore a jacket of silver thread
That was scorched, and torn at the seams,
‘So this is the place that the Master said,
A planet, cocooned in dreams! '
I thought she was probably quite deranged
And helped her into the jeep,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Eternal Youth
I was travelling through a countryside
That I'd never seen before,
As it grew dark, the mountainsides
Loomed threatening, over my car,
The cloud hung low in a louring sky
And my headlights cut through the gloom,
Ahead on the twisting, bending road
I had hopes of a cosy room.
There wasn't a house or a farm out there,
The valley was threading down,
The deeper it went, the darker yet
With still no sign of a town,
I thought that I'd have to drive all night
And my eyes were growing dim,
When back in the trees, I saw a light
And a sign: ‘The Dew Drop Inn'.
I pulled at the bell for the Publican
And I heard a shuffle inside,
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poem by David Lewis Paget
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