David Lewis Paget Poems

I’d had a spat with my only love
So I set out in the car,
She said, ‘Well, where are you going to? ’
I answered, ‘Eversofar! ’
...

The last of the autumn sun had gone,
The winter was blowing in,
And on her broom, the witch of the north
Arrived with her bag of sin,
...

I’m writing this in a cellar, deep
In the earth, by candlelight,
Keeping my head down nightly from
The fall of meteorites,
...

I sit at night in a darkened room
And rest my eyes from the glare,
The mirror’s cracked in the hallway, and
Another’s cracked by the stair,
...

‘I’ll take you back to a former time
To the year of ’53,
When I was just a travelling man
On the coast, down by the sea…’
...

‘I’ll see you up at the lake, ’ I said,
As she backed on out of the drive,
And that was when, if I’d only known
I would last see her alive.
...

The books that I’ve collected over
More than fifty years,
Are neatly shelved and catalogued,
Dog-eared, and some in verse,
...

Mr. Deanes climbed into the lift,
Went up to the fortieth floor,
He'd worked in the building for twenty years
But never been up there before,
...

They had kept her in a padded cell
Since she tried to slash her wrists,
Throwing herself against the walls
In what were psychotic fits,
...

Anon has writ but many a good verse
From village, fields and fens,
But none so cruel as that he wrote
About Sir Patrick Spens.
...