I said, ‘We’re going to Coffin Cove
For the first weekend in June,
I’ve booked us a seaside caravan,
Under a bloodshot Moon,’
Giselda turned for a moment then
And she looked at me, wide-eyed,
‘I’ve just come out of the hospital,
You know that I nearly died!’

‘Why would you pick on Coffin Cove,
Isn’t that testing fate?’
‘That figure of death is out of breath,
He got to your bed too late.’
She’d had a terrible accident
And they thought she’d not survive,
But for a scar and the wreck of a car,
Here she was back, alive.

Giselda believed in portents and fate,
And something about the stars,
I said whatever the portents were,
She’d been driving the car.
‘We hold our fate in our own two hands,
And yours just slipped on the wheel,
But though you bled, that scar on your head
Has just taken time to heal.’

So off we travelled to Coffin Cove
On the long weekend in June,
The caravan sat there on the sand
While the skies were dark with gloom.
We’d heard a storm was heading our way
Though we’d both be snug inside,
The beach was clear for the time of year
So Giselda swam, and dried.

The wind came up as the clouds rolled in
So we shut and locked the door,
With lightning crackling overhead
She huddled up on the floor,
She hated thunder, and lightning too
Then it rained, and turned to hail,
The noise was deafening there inside
Then the wind began to wail.

The van would rock as the wind would gust
So I held Giselda tight,
The storm just wouldn’t let up, it raged
And roared all through the night,
We could hear the sound of the crashing waves
And they seemed outside our door,
Then the van took off, we could tell as much
By the movement of the floor.

I opened one of the windows just
To take a look outside,
Giselda said, ‘Are we floating off?’
And I must admit, I lied.
The breakers crashed in a sea of foam
And we seemed far from the shore,
I said, ‘Don’t worry, this van is tough,
It could float for evermore.’

As midnight struck on my mantle clock
Giselda jumped, fell back,
‘Who’s that,’ she pointed along the van
To a shape, all dressed in black,
Its hood half covered a grinning skull
And it held a wicked scythe,
Then in a rattling gravel voice,
‘You’ll not long be alive!’

I couldn’t speak for a moment there,
The sight just took my breath,
I said, ‘Just what do you want with us?’
‘I’m here to bring you death!
I reign supreme over Coffin Cove
As you should have known full well,
I waited, knowing you’d wander in
To the seventh circle of Hell!’

The van was tumbling in the waves
And turning round and round,
‘I won’t be using my scythe today,
The two of you will drown.’
But then a thunderous, monster wave
Threw me down on the floor,
And underneath us was solid ground,
We’d landed up on the shore.

The evil figure rose up at that
And turned to a greying mist,
Then suddenly he had gone complete
As she and I had kissed,
We burst on out through the open door
And we cried, ‘We’re still alive!’
‘Don’t bring me again to Coffin Cove,’
Giselda said, ‘Just drive.’

David Lewis Paget