Whenever the sun sinks down in the west
And the stars come out at night,
The birds return to their cosy nests
And a stray dog barks in fright,
I hear the click of the front door lock
And I let the blinds unfold,
Then hear the whisper behind the clock,
That says, ‘New souls for old!’
And down at the end of the darkened street
Is a man with a horse and dray,
He wears thick felt on his padded boots
And his voice seems far away,
The sacks piled up on the cart are new
And they jump about in the cold,
But his voice gets louder on his approach,
He says, ‘New souls for old!’
So nobody opens their door at night
‘Til the man and his dray have passed,
But peer in fright, and put out the light
Then hold their breath to the last,
They hide their children under the stairs
But the voice wafts in from the cold,
It seems to come from under the chairs
And it says, ‘New souls for old!’
The mirror under the hallway clock
Is hard in the dark to see,
But when I head for the door to lock
Reflects a vision of me,
The eyes are evil, the mouth is grim
And the chin is jutting and bold,
The brow is furrowed and creased with sin
As I hear, ‘New souls for old!’
One night as the gas lamps sputtered out
At the farther end of the street,
I heard the clop of his horse’s hooves
As I strode on out to meet,
The man peered out from under his hood
And told me the price, fourfold,
I’d have to be willing to take his place
To get a new soul for old!
So now I wander the streets at night
Wrapped up in a cloak and hood,
I feel the evil leaching away
As I work for the greater good,
The sacks piled up on the cart are new
And they jump about in the cold,
I’m waiting for someone to take my place
As I say, ‘New souls for old!’
David Lewis Paget
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 4:12 AM UTC
Whenever the sun sinks down in the west
And the stars come out at night,
The birds return to their cosy nests
And a stray dog barks in fright,
I hear the click of the front door lock
And I let the blinds unfold,
Then hear the whisper behind the clock,
That says, ‘New souls for old!’
And down at the end of the darkened street
Is a man with a horse and dray,
He wears thick felt on his padded boots
And his voice seems far away,
The sacks piled up on the cart are new
And they jump about in the cold,
But his voice gets louder on his approach,
He says, ‘New souls for old!’
So nobody opens their door at night
‘Til the man and his dray have passed,
But peer in fright, and put out the light
Then hold their breath to the last,
They hide their children under the stairs
But the voice wafts in from the cold,
It seems to come from under the chairs
And it says, ‘New souls for old!’
The mirror under the hallway clock
Is hard in the dark to see,
But when I head for the door to lock
Reflects a vision of me,
The eyes are evil, the mouth is grim
And the chin is jutting and bold,
The brow is furrowed and creased with sin
As I hear, ‘New souls for old!’
One night as the gas lamps sputtered out
At the farther end of the street,
I heard the clop of his horse’s hooves
As I strode on out to meet,
The man peered out from under his hood
And told me the price, fourfold,
I’d have to be willing to take his place
To get a new soul for old!
So now I wander the streets at night
Wrapped up in a cloak and hood,
I feel the evil leaching away
As I work for the greater good,
The sacks piled up on the cart are new
And they jump about in the cold,
I’m waiting for someone to take my place
As I say, ‘New souls for old!’
David Lewis Paget
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