The Curse Of The Ketchup Poem by Paula Glynn

It was the year 1970 in a busy English town
And she worked at the local greasy spoon
They did not have Facebook then
So that café was virtually her life
For a good five all-too-long years

She often measured time whilst working
By years rather than days or hours
The clock on the greasy spoon wall ticking
The walls always looking the same beige
The chairs always the same dark burgundy

The selfish customers would pour in
All demanding a greasy fry-up and cup of tea
They didn't care how hard she worked
They didn't care about her struggling with money
Money needed to pay the bills and put food on the table

Then comes 1975 and people start dying
No one could possibly link it to the greasy spoon
Their happy and busy lives over all too soon
But they loved their chips covered in delicious ketchup
That would make their heart end with a deadly boom

No one knew Betty poisoned the ketchup bottle
On a daily basis: the ketchup tasted fine
But going there was a mistake: to relax, to dine
Investigators knowing about this poison crime
And in the end Betty would serve her time

After she was in prison people would wander in
Wondering about a waitress's sin
That the café she once worked in could again begin
No one ever poisoned again in that old greasy spoon
No one to die and to have their life over too soon

No one saw Betty's sickness
No one could ever see
What suffering Betty could guarantee
Her murderous ways urban legend
Her twisted personality evil to the core

People would always remember the poisoned ketchup
People would simply never forget
But they know Betty is in prison and does regret
That she twisted her emotions and took the wrong step
Her freedom gone: her choices in life a losing bet.