The Queen stepped ahead of the gun carriage
That bore the country’s king,
He’d died, they said, in the early hours
In the palace’s east wing,
And now he rode in a state of grace
As the people lined his way,
His coffin high on the gun carriage
Pulled by a pair of greys.

The Queen was hid by a widow’s veil
That covered the sovereign’s face,
It stopped them seeing the evil smile
Hidden behind the lace,
For way behind in a carriage, mad
With power, and bedecked with rings,
And wearing the crown his father had
He was now, ‘Long live the King!’

The Horse Guards led the procession with
Their sabres raised to the sky,
Then came the Dukes and Duchesses
And never an eye was dry,
The King who died was a pleasant king
And beloved of the people’s grace,
So thousands of flags were waved for him
As he travelled along that place.

Then as they reached Horse Guards Parade
The gun carriage gave a lurch,
It hadn’t been fixed too firmly when
They set it up at the church,
The coffin came flying off the top
Flew open and hit the ground,
That’s when a pile of pale white bones
Were scattered about and around.

And rising up from a mutter, there
Was a roar from the waiting crowd,
It started off with a stutter, then
With a bellowing rage, aloud,
A pile of bones from a new dead king
Just what were they trying to prove?
The Queen was seized by the angry crowd
And her widow’s veil removed.

The Queen with platitudes, tried to speak
But her words were heard in vain,
The people wanted their funeral
There was no way to explain,
They set the coffin back where it was
And ignored her screams and cries,
A single nail in the coffin lid
And a royal to despise.

Then all the way to the cemetery
The people pulled the Queen,
Safe on top of the gun carriage
And only a muffled scream,
The King, arrested, was buried first
In a hole, a deeper drop,
And then his mother, as would beseem
In her coffin, on the top.

And all the while the old king sat
On a terrace in Tuscany,
Sampling all the local wines
And savouring to be free,
Never again to hear the whine
Of that dreadful troll, the Queen,
Or kissing another baby’s head,
Life was but a dream!

David Lewis Paget

She turned up here on my doorstep
Completely out of the blue,
She didn’t say where she was coming from
Or where she was going to,
She carried a single paperback
And I think it carried his name,
I tried to see, but she held it back,
The book had a title, ‘Shame!’

I should have been warned by that single word
And barred the girl at the door,
She didn’t say, or I never heard
Just what she was looking for,
She stepped inside, and pushed me away
And walked with a silent tread,
Along the hall where the stairway lay
And muttered just one word, ‘Bed’.

She found the room on the upper floor
That saw the occasional guest,
With a single bed and a counterpane
And a walnut, inlaid chest.
She went to bed and she fell asleep
Nor even kicked off a shoe,
I stood perplexed on the landing there
Not knowing what I should do.

I waited for her till she awoke
Then headed her off at the stairs,
‘What did you mean by coming here
Our guests are often in pairs.’
‘I meant to challenge your friend, my ex,
He left me mired in pain,
You well should know him, his name is Rex,
He wrote this novel called ‘Shame!’

Then Rex had entered and faced the stair
And she rushed into his arms,
If I’d known better, or been aware
I might have raised the alarm.
The book flew open, revealed a knife
Secreted into its pages,
And she had stabbed him, not once, but twice
Revealing one of her rages.

Rex was lying so still, and cold
We held her down on the floor there,
‘Are you quite crazy,’ I tried to scold,
But she had cut her own throat there.
A pool of blood spread across the floor
And mingled there from the lovers,
I swore right then I would bolt my door
Deny all entry to others.

David Lewis Paget

I’d known him since we were boys at school
So I let him in to the flat,
He wasn’t known for playing the fool,
I knew him better than that,
But he carried a canvas under his arm
And he propped it up on a chair,
And said I needed to help him out
Could I keep the picture there?

I stood well back and surveyed the paint
It was oil, laid on with a knife,
Of a naked woman, with auburn hair
He said it was somebody’s wife,
She lay at rest on a purple lounge
Had shaken her hair quite loose,
And all she wore on her wonderful form
Was a pair of ballet shoes.

‘Why do I need to keep it here?’ I said,
But I didn’t mind,
Something about the woman’s eyes
Said she was one of a kind.
‘Her husband visits me all the time
I wouldn’t want him to see,
He doesn’t know that she had it done
Or passed the picture to me.’

Marcus gave me a fleeting look
But still had the grace to blush,
I didn’t want to embarrass him
Put fingers to lips, said ‘Hush!’
He left, but said that she might pop in
She’d want to inspect the place,
To find it suitable, that her skin
Was hanging in naked grace.

It took a week till she showed her face,
Came hurrying in at the door,
Her head was covered in widow’s lace,
Announced herself as ‘Lenore’,
I doubted that was her real name
But took her through to my den,
The **** hung high on the picture wall,
She stood and she said, ‘Amen’.

And then she turned and she looked at me
And she smiled as if approved,
Something about that smile, her eyes,
And I felt strangely moved,
‘Would you care to see the original,’
She said, and began to strip,
I couldn’t mumble a word, my tongue
Was tied and set to trip.

She told me to look away until
Quite ready for my gaze,
I couldn’t imagine what she did
It seemed to take for days,
I heard her shake out her auburn hair
Until well and truly loose,
And when I looked, she was naked but
For a pair of ballet shoes.

David Lewis Paget

He went ashore with the duty crew
The moment they got their leave,
And headed home for his two by two
And his waiting Genevieve,
He wore his official navy rig
With the medals on his chest,
Had taken pains that his suit was clean
And his blue jean collar pressed.

He followed the crazy paving that
Led up to his cottage door,
Could only see a glimmer of light
A smidgen of light, no more,
A heavy footfall came to the door
And flung it out wide, apace,
While he stood grim, and staring at him
A man with a stranger’s face.

Then Genevieve came breathlessly out
Went breathlessly up to him,
I want you to meet a cousin of mine,
He’s staying with us, meet Jim.
The sailor took a step in the door
And shouldered the man away,
‘I see,’ he said, ‘not seen him before,
I’ll see if your Jim can stay.’

They settled down in the kitchen, sat
Across the table and glared,
While Genevieve had served up a meal
A meal that had been prepared,
‘So who’s your cousin related to,
Your mother’s side, or your Da’s?’
She stopped for a moment then to think
‘It must have been Grandpa’s.’

But he’d grinned over the table then
At Genevieve, this Jim,
And that was the moment the sailor knew
That he’d been suckered in.
‘I don’t think this is your cousin, dear,
But there, I think you knew,
And hit the stranger fair in the face
With a plate of boiling stew.

I think that he scarred the guy for life
For his skin came off in strips,
While Genevieve took a paper towel
And tried to save his lips,
‘Take your mate to the Rose and Crown
And buy him a cooling beer,’
The sailor said, as he cuffed her head
‘For you’ll not be staying here.’

David Lewis Paget

It was Black Dog Night at the station,
With a Black Dog caught in my hair,
There were too many owls, there were shrieks and howls
There was too much intolerance there.

There were tales floating out and forgotten,
There were stories that claimed to be hype
There were nightmare things with handfuls of rings
There were things too awful to type.

There were nasties a-float in the darkness,
There were Gorgons, that looked for a fight,
There were these and more, and Griffins of yore
That gave any sentence respite.

In the dark, I could hear the farmer scream
He’d just cut the throat of his wife,
But the low of the cattle had masked her death rattle
And the slash-slash-slash of his knife.

There were monsters that sat on my keyboard,
They were growling, and screamed ‘Let me in!’
But I pushed them away, and I cried ‘Not today,’
They were creeping right under my skin.

Then a voice echoed up from the valley
Where the darkest of dreams lay at rest,
‘You may type in the grail at the end of my tale
If you’re sure that Milady is dressed.’

The night came and flew in the window,
To block all the plots I had kept,
It’s the Black Dog way, no story today
For the rest of the night, barely slept.

It was Black Dog Night at the station
With the rails outside rusted through,
But the Ghost Train came in the mist and the rain
With a story, at last, that was true!

David Lewis Paget

Winter was settling in at the hedges,
Whiting the meadows and hanging off ledges,
Crazing at windows and frosting the willow,
Creeping at ceilings and freezing my pillow,
Outside the woods were embraced in a tangle,
Snow falling steadily, stars were a-spangle.

I felt it time to be wandering steadily
Out where my footsteps had followed hers, readily,
Past where the pathway encircled the wishing well
Holding the pennies we’d tossed for a lovers spell,
She’d walked ahead with a bow in her auburn hair
One yellow ribbon, that’s how I remembered her.

She’d seemed uncertain and wanted to talk to me
I really didn’t, but she said to ‘walk with me’,
Down through the woods where the leaves lay in Autumn,
Yellow and golden, the grounds of Bell Norton,
Once was a convent and practiced religiously
Then we were deep in the woods by a poplar tree.

She turned and spoke of the thing I was fearing,
Took off her ring and the pearl in her earring,
‘I am in love with another,’ she said to me,
‘What of our love?’ then she said, ‘That is dead to me!’
‘You must allow me to love Justin Hanger,’
I felt cold rage and I lashed out in anger.

She fell pole-axed at the foot of a chestnut tree
Never a sign of the life that had once loved me,
Dragged her some distance and into the Folly,
Covered in creepers and mistletoe, holly,
Buried her under a floor that was rotten,
And left her in store so that she’d be forgotten.

Now it was months and I came back to see her
Deep in the winter, with weather so drear,
Opened the flimsy old door of the Folly,
Caught up in creepers and mistletoe, holly,
When from the floor came a sound like a groaning,
Under the boards was a weeping and moaning.

‘This can’t be true,’ as I came in and staggered,
Watched a hand rise through the floor, looking hagard,
Most of the flesh fell away from the bone,
Then the floor heaved and I heard the girl moan,
‘Where is my lover, the one that is true to me,’
‘You must be dead,’ I said, ‘all this is new to me.’

I took the axe that was stood in the corner
Raised it aloft as if I tried to warn her,
Then someone tackled and brought me to ground,
Muttering something, ‘At last she’s been found!’
And under the floor were her human remains,
No moaning or groaning, just my guilty pains.

David Lewis Paget

Down in the grotto we’d go to swim
Whenever the tide was high
And pouring into the basin there,
At low tide it was dry,
I’d go with the Percival sisters
Who would laugh and call and dive,
While bursting out of their suits, it seemed
A time to be alive.

While Carolyn had the bigger *******
Brittany had the thighs,
Carolyn had the sweetest smile
But Brittany had the eyes,
I never could choose between them for
I loved them both the same,
They’d flaunt themselves in the grotto pool
To them it was just a game.

The light would glimmer within the cave
Reflect off the grotto walls,
And from the roof would echo again
The sound of the girls catcalls,
We’d swim, then climb on a ledge of rock
To dry ourselves in the air,
And listen to water lapping in
From the mouth of the cave out there.

They often would try to bully me
To say who I loved the best,
I’d always say that I loved them both
And they’d say I failed the test,
So one day, standing upon the ledge
They both peeled their costumes off,
And said, ‘now tell us the one you love
Or haven’t you seen enough.’

The sisters’ beauty caught at my throat
And took the most of my breath,
I’d never seen them naked before
Nor since, I swear on my death,
I couldn’t answer, so they got mad
And flung me into the pool,
Then swam around me, ******* and legs
Determined to play the fool.

Brittany trapped me between her thighs
While Carolyn pushed me down,
The water swirled at my head so long
I thought I was going to drown,
But finally they’d had enough of me
Holding me down, submersed,
And I shot up to the surface then
Thinking my lungs would burst.

It’s years since ever we went to swim
Together again, all three,
For finally I had to make a choice,
Which one would marry me.
Brittany’s now my loving wife
For I found between her thighs,
In the grotto swim, when she squeezed me in,
The truth in a world of lies.

David Lewis Paget