I watched him stalk through the evergreens
In his black top hat and tails,
Just like some figure, lost in dreams
Or a voodoo doll, with wails,
I’d heard that they called him Doctor Bones
And thought that I could see why,
With teeth that gleamed like white tombstones
And a hole for a missing eye.
‘You conjure him up,’ said Marceline,
‘You bring him back from the grave,
His ancestors had laid him down
He was much too bad to save.’
She called Darleen and she told her, ‘go,
Bring a ritual bird to slay,
We have to get rid of Doctor Bones
Or Marc may die today.’
I lay back on the verandah, and
I fell in a tranceful stare,
I looked on out to the evergreens
And knew I could see him there,
He carried a stick and danced about
Then bowed with a sweep of his hat,
‘He’s dancing upon my grave,’ I said,
‘Now what do you think of that?’
Darleen came back with a feathered bird
And she danced and swung it round,
Filling the air with feathers as she
Dashed the bird on the ground,
‘Get back to the grave you came from,’
Marceline screeched out to the wood,
And Doctor Bones responded with moans
Then sank to his knees in mud.
They said that they broke my fever as
The bird had screeched at the last,
They wiped its blood all over my face
Where it seemed to set, like a cast,
I rose up out of my torpor and
Saw Darleen clutching the cat,
While I was stood by the mirror, and
Was wearing his tails and hat!
David Lewis Paget
