The Ferryman

In April, back in twenty-one
Inside the Castle Myrmidon,
I worked the Master's stables
And I groomed Milady's mare.
The Baroness De Ville would roam
The country on her chestnut roan,
And I would lead her safely home
And tend to her despair.

They kept her close and under key
In fear that she might turn and flee,
But she was trapped by geography
Beside the River Styx,
The river turned and turned about
Confined her where the bank ran out
And often there, I heard her shout:
‘Save me from Asterix! '

The Knight, Sir Asterix had planned
To ask her for her maiden hand,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Doppelgänger

I had seen the woman briefly on
A trip to Baden-Baden,
Where I'd gone to sell my perfumes,
And my stock of fragrant oils.
It was at the Roman Spa where she
Had briefly parked her car, and I
Just couldn't help but notice
How her hair fell into coils.

Then she turned her face toward me
And my heart, it almost halted,
For she had the bluest eyes that I
Had ever seen, I swear,
And her mouth was like a ruby, and it
Pouted, and it drew me,
And I followed her along the
Schiller Strasse thoroughfare.

But I lost her in the traffic, and I
Wandered, almost frantic,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Courting Disaster

I was twenty-three when I saw her first,
Without a word of a lie,
She had wandered into the woods by me
With a basket, held on high,
Her auburn hair reflected the sun
And she flashed me a dazzling smile,
That turned my head to the way she led
As I followed her, over the stile.

She skipped along at a steady pace
Weaved in and out through the trees,
Collected the broad-rimmed mushrooms there
As she stopped, and fell to her knees,
Her dress flared out as it caught the wind
And her hair was floated wide,
I hid by a tree, and held my breath
As I thought of her, as a bride.

She had such a look of innocence,
Was free as the birds of the air,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Pearls of Verna Boone

I'd been alone for a year or so
Since Norma Jean had died,
I stayed in the house I'd bought for her
At the end of River Drive,
I'd felt her death as a fatal blow,
A crippling twist of fate,
For Norma Jean was my one true love,
Though I'd met her a little late!

I was past my prime when our eyes had met,
And she'd looked so young to me,
Her eyes had sparkled like diamonds set
As scarabs in sand and sea,
She saw the desert behind my eyes,
The emptiness in my life,
I stumbled over the words, but she
Said 'Yes! ' - She would be my wife!

I didn't know that she carried then
The seeds of a painful death,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Lalani

I swore, when my wife took off one night
That I'd never love again,
She'd left a note by the candlelight:
'I've been seeing other men! '
I stood in shock, I couldn't move,
Stood rooted to the floor,
And after I'd pulled the blinds, I cried,
Then locked the cottage door.

The love that she'd sworn, just shadows;
The plans that we'd made, just sand,
My life had become a darker place
By the scrawl from a woman's hand.
The cottage was wreathed in silence, it
Was still, like a living tomb,
The only sounds were my echoing steps
As I paced there, in the gloom.

I spent, God! How many weeks? I sat
Just stared at a blank, white wall,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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The Daisy Bree

I stood back on the quay and watched them
Raise the anchor, trim the sail,
Haul the spinnaker up to catch
The gusting breeze once under way;
They slipped out past the Harbour gates
And with them went my heart, my dreams,
As bitter fortune made it plain
That life is never all it seems.

My friend from childhood, Roger Cain,
My childhood sweetheart, Alice Drew,
They'd tied the knot an hour before
In secrecy, I never knew!
I'd thought that we had time enough
To sort it out, she'd made it plain:
'You either marry me, or else...'
She'd patted down the counterpane.

I didn't see her then for days,
She'd said that she was overdue,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Strip Jack!

We'd been caught out in the yacht that day,
A storm blew up in the lee,
The clouds had gathered at four o'clock
In the wake of a rising sea,
'It's looking grim, ' I had said to her
As we spun the bows around,
And headed in to the distant shore
As the first of the rain came down.

The sun went in and the sky was black
As I reefed the sail in short,
While Linda pulled in the spinnaker,
And clung to the rail's support,
She made her way to the cabin then
As my phone began to ring,
I heard, 'It's done! ' and my mind went numb,
It was time to do my thing!

She stood with her back toward me as
I lunged with the marlin spike,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Necronicon

The house behind the trees lay still,
A monster, in its sleep,
The shutters fell in tatters, lay
In shards there, at its feet.
The paint had gone, one hundred years
Since proud, it gleamed on high,
The Keep, the Tower, Necronicon
Had seemed to sweep the sky!

But deep within its weathered gloom
A heart beat, faintly heard,
Some dim and evil echo that
The world outside had purged,
The door swung on a single hinge
And vegetation lay
Across the rotting carpets that
Had served it, yesterday!

While in some dim-lit parlour
Sat an old man in a chair,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Looking for Love

We married when we were just nineteen,
I thought her a perfect catch,
We'd fallen in love on the day she came
To watch, at a football match,
I'd fallen badly, injured my leg
And was subbed in the second half,
She came to the dressing room, and tied
My leg with her silken scarf.

She said that she was a trainee nurse
And practice was better than none,
I told her I was a graduate,
I'd be limping from now on,
We took a seat at a coffee shop
And stayed for the afternoon,
As I gazed at her dark brown eyes and hair,
And she smiled at me in the gloom.

Our romance whirled us on at a pace
That was breathless, with content,

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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Marie Claire

Down in the valley, beside the Seine
Where it's cold and damp in the autumn rain,
A couple once opened a restaurant,
And called it the Café d'Aubijon.

The chef was Henri Apollinaire,
His wife, the beautiful Marie Claire,
And Henri worshipped his wife, complete
From her hair right down to her darling feet.

Marie had more of a roving eye
For the guests and the diners, passing by,
While Henri slaved over plates of veal,
Marie saw hearts she would like to steal.

She flirted, fluttered and teased with eyes
That promised much to the less than wise,
She often removed her wedding ring
And leant so close, she was whispering.

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poem by David Lewis Paget
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