Crossing The Bridge Poem by David Lewis Paget

I was out when the heavens opened up,
I was only but halfway there,
I hadn’t a coat or umbrella then
On my way to my darling dear,
But she was dry in her great big house
That was built up high on the ridge,
The river rose and it blocked my path
With the Warlock, guarding the bridge.

His hat was wet and his cloak had flared
While his eyes, pinpoints of red,
Stood out from under his hat and stared
As my mind was filled with dread,
I didn’t know if he’d let me pass
I had met his type before,
He was grumble-growl with a werewolf’s howl
And a sharp and mighty claw.

I tried to pass on the narrow bridge
But he growled, ‘Who goes you where? ’
I said, ‘I’m going to meet my girl
In the house on the ridge up there.’
‘You shall not pass, you shall not go,
I shall tear you limb from limb, ’
His claws he raised in a grisly show
And his jaw was set and grim.

The rain continued its pelting down
And the thunder pealed above,
I felt determined to beat this clown
I was fortified with love.
‘You’ll not be wanting to cross Nyrene
She will drop a spell or two,
That will tear apart your Warlock’s heart
When her spell is done with you.’

The Warlock started to make reply
When the lightning hit the rail,
And lit him up like a paper cup
From his head down to his tail,
The river washed him across the bridge
And into its raging flow,
Whether he drowned or fried that day
Well really, I wouldn’t know.

‘You shouldn’t have used my name in vain, ’
Nyrene told me at the door,
‘That lightning flash may have caused you pain,
It was kept in my ‘Un-aimed’ Store.’
I never go up if the rivers rise
When Nyrene’s home on the ridge,
If lightning’s lurking up in the skies
Or a Warlock’s guarding the bridge.

24 November 2015