When Alison left the bath to run
It ruined the parquet floor,
It spilled on out like a waterspout
And ran right under the door,
She’d gone back into the bedroom, so
The spill continued to run,
Across the landing and down the stair,
‘Now look what our daughter’s done!’

We couldn’t dry out the parquetry
It swelled, and loosened the glue,
Then bits would lift and would come adrift,
I didn’t know what to do.
Then Barbara said, ‘It’s coming up,
We shouldn’t have laid it down,
I’ll go and choose some ceramic tiles
At that tiling place in town.’

I said that I’d lay the tiles myself
But Barbara would insist,
‘We really need a professional
For a job as big as this.’
I shrugged, and let her get on with it
I never could win a trick,
So the tiler that she employed was one
Ahab Nathaniel Frick.

I’d seen this tiler about the town
All hunched, and wizened and old,
His wrinkled skin was like parchment in
Some leathery paperfold.
He wore a hat with a drooping brim
So the sun never touched his face,
A puff of wind would have blown him in
To leave not a hint, or trace.

‘Are you sure that he’s up to this,’ I said,
‘He isn’t the best of men,
He’ll probably get on his knees all right
But never get up again.’
But Barbara shushed me out of there
Was keeping me well at bay,
She wanted to prove what she could do
In laying the tiles her way.

I didn’t get in to see them then
‘Til the tiles were laid, with grout,
Nor see Nathaniel Frick again,
I supposed that he’d gone out.
I stood and stared at the new laid tiles,
Their pattern was in the floor,
And Barbara, waiting proudly said,
‘What are you staring for?’

‘There’s something a-swirl in those tiles,’ I said,
‘Some pattern you didn’t mean,
The way that he’s put them together, well
There’s a sense of something unclean!’
I said the tiles made an evil face
And showed her the curving jaw,
The squinting eyes that could hypnotise
And the cheeks, so sallow and raw.

She said that she couldn’t see it then,
That I must have twisted eyes,
I wasn’t wanting to hurt her so
I tried to sympathise,
But the monster’s face was set in space
And it wouldn’t go away,
I dreamt about that face by night
And I saw it, every day.

At night, the face seemed to snarl at me
When I passed it in the gloom,
And I worried that it was set right there
Outside our daughter’s room,
Then Barbara thought she heard a noise,
An intruder in the house,
And tipped me out of the bed to chase
The night intruder out.

The moans began in the early hours
And the groans came just at dawn,
Then Alison came into our room,
‘There’s a shadow on my wall!
A man with a broad-brimmed, floppy hat
And with squinting eyes that gleamed,’
I said, ‘That’s it,’ when she had a fit
And our darling daughter screamed!

I went on out to the lumber shed
And I brought a mattock in,
While Alison jumped in the double bed
As the tiles set up a din,
A wailing, groaning, squealing sound
That would raise the peaceful dead,
I raised the mattock and smashed the tiles
Just above the monster’s head.

The tiles rose up with a mighty roar
And shattered, scattered around,
As a shadow from underneath the floor
Rose up with a dreadful sound,
It hissed, and made for the stairway, leapt
And it almost made me sick,
For fleeing out of the open door
Was Ahab Nathaniel Frick!

David Lewis Paget

I wanted to go to the end of the street
To buy a chocolate éclair,
But now I’m at the end of the street,
The end of the street’s not there.
I’ll swear it was there just yesterday,
Was there on the day before,
But now when I look for the end of the street
The end of the street’s no more.

All I can see is a land of waste,
A land of rubble and weeds,
Where bushes grow in untidy rows,
A scatter of burdock seeds,
I wander on where the shops have gone
Where you used to meet with us,
But the road just ended around the bend
Where we caught the 16 bus.

There’s nothing left but a wilderness
An empty paddock and space,
As if I meet at the end of the street
The end of the human race,
The houses, shops and the industry
And the people I saw before,
They seem to be lost in a history
That nobody felt or saw.

That nobody felt or saw, I thought,
That came and took you away,
Strapped in the back of an ambulance
Laid out on a cold tin tray,
And your laughter fades in the wilderness
And your sighs reach up to the Moon,
And my heart that burst at the back of the hearse
Will never be mended soon.

I wanted to go to the end of the street
To buy a chocolate éclair,
For chocolate’s really the only thing
That will feed my deep despair.
But my soul is lost in the wilderness
Of your empty passing by,
I’d spend my grief on the lonely heath
If I thought I could only cry!

David Lewis Paget

The man had a terrible temper,
Would rage at the skies above,
Would screech and howl, like a midnight owl,
He’d been unlucky in love.
He’d stomp about in the village square,
Go out, and look for a fight,
The villagers always avoided him
When he’d roam around at night.

Then he’d come and knock at my own front door
Demanding to talk to Jill,
I’d hear her say from the passageway,
‘I don’t want to talk to Bill!
I’d had enough when he beat me up
And my heart would never heal,
Just tell him I’m sticking with you, my love,
I know that your love is real!’

He’d punch the door, then he’d stand and roar
So I’d slam the door in his face,
He kicked a panel across the floor
And I said I’d call the police!
I heard him muttering as he left,
‘Come out, I’ll give you a fight,
Tell Jill she’s dead if she’s in your bed,
I’ll call in the dead of night!’

I took the hammer and nails outside
And battened the shutters down,
Then strung an electrical tripwire that
Would pulverise the clown,
‘The man’s as mad as a meat axe, Jill,
Bi-Polar, that’s for sure,’
‘More of a schizophrenic, Jim,
‘Be sure to bar the door.’

We’d sit in a petrified silence in
The cottage, every night,
Listening for the slightest sound
If something wasn’t right,
The roof would creak as the timber cooled
And the wind soughed through the eaves,
We even strained by the window panes
At the patter of Autumn leaves.

‘How long are we going to put up with this,’
I said to Jill, one morn,
‘He’s tempting fate by the garden gate,
He’s been there since the dawn.’
‘I’m going to have to confront him,’ said
The darling of my life,
I hadn’t proposed to her just then
But I hoped she’d be my wife.

She walked on out to the garden gate
And I heard him raise his voice,
I couldn’t quite make his words out, but
He was giving her a choice.
Then Jill I heard in a voice that stirred
From the depths of a gravel pit,
And he went white with a look of fright
And he left, and that was it!

‘What did you say to the maniac
That he turned and went away?’
She smiled, and cuddled on into me,
‘I think I made his day.
I said that I’d go back home with him
But I’d poison his meat and drinks,
Or slit his throat when asleep one night…’
He hasn’t been back here since!

David Lewis Paget

The storm outside was abating, or
He thought that it was, at first,
He’d only gone to the pub with Joe
To slake a raging thirst.
They’d both been out on the landfill
And it was humid through the day,
So Joe said, ‘Bet I can race you there
And put two pints away!’

But the storm had built as they drank in there
And the rain came down in sheets,
Then hailstones peppered the windows and
Joe said, ‘It’s turned to sleet!
I think we’re not going anywhere
‘Til the storm has passed and gone,
We might as well have another..
And it’s your shout,’ he said to John.

They’d known each other forever, and
Had married two sisters, late,
They’d both been into their thirties,
Sister Jean and sister Kate.
While one of them was a loving match,
The other one was mean,
And Joe said, ‘would you consider a swap,
My Kate for her sister, Jean?’

So John had laughed, but he looked away
For he knew that Joe was sore,
For Kate was never the bargain that
His mate was looking for,
Her tongue was sharp, though he knew her bark
Was worse that her fabled bite,
For John was meeting Kate in the dark
When they both were alone at night.

He’d kick himself, for he knew that Jean
Was the love match of the pair,
But she tended to work at night so much
That she often wasn’t there,
And Joe would stay at the pub so late
That they had to throw him out,
He didn’t have cause to go back home
So he stayed until last shout.

The storm continued to rage outside
So they both got worse for drink,
And the talk died down as they sat and frowned,
They both had time to think.
‘We’re always going to be mates,’ said John,
‘I hope that you think so too.’
‘We’re side by side where we both belong
No matter what we might do.’

But the ***** brought on a maudlin state
And it seemed to get to John,
‘It may be time to confess,’ he thought,
‘This deception can’t go on.’
‘I’ve something I have to tell you, Joe,
It’s time I was coming clean.’
But Joe stayed him, and he said, ‘Me first!
Old mate, I’ve been seeing Jean!’

David Lewis Paget

Praise the spells and bless the charms,
I found April in my arms.
April golden, April cloudy,
Gracious, cruel, tender, rowdy;
April soft in flowered languor,
April cold with sudden anger,
Ever changing, ever true --
I love April, I love you.

Isabel met an enormous bear,
Isabel, Isabel, didn't care;
The bear was hungry, the bear was ravenous,
The bear's big mouth was cruel and cavernous.
The bear said, Isabel, glad to meet you,
How do, Isabel, now I'll eat you!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry.
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She washed her hands and she straightened her hair up,
Then Isabel quietly ate the bear up.
Once in a night as black as pitch
Isabel met a wicked old witch.
the witch's face was cross and wrinkled,
The witch's gums with teeth were sprinkled.
**, **, Isabel! the old witch crowed,
I'll turn you into an ugly toad!
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry,
She showed no rage and she showed no rancor,
But she turned the witch into milk and drank her.
Isabel met a hideous giant,
Isabel continued self reliant.
The giant was hairy, the giant was horrid,
He had one eye in the middle of his forhead.
Good morning, Isabel, the giant said,
I'll grind your bones to make my bread.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She nibled the zwieback that she always fed off,
And when it was gone, she cut the giant's head off.
Isabel met a troublesome doctor,
He punched and he poked till he really shocked her.
The doctor's talk was of coughs and chills
And the doctor's satchel bulged with pills.
The doctor said unto Isabel,
Swallow this, it will make you well.
Isabel, Isabel, didn't worry,
Isabel didn't scream or scurry.
She took those pills from the pill concocter,
And Isabel calmly cured the doctor.