BlakeneyRose Berry


Old Mary - Poem by BlakeneyRose Berry

A tale i shall tell of murder and spite
A tale that begins on a dark stormy night,
For an old wife named Mary, a wicked old witch
Who waited for husband, an idiot named Rich,
For Rich was a drunk, philanderer and swine
Who past out in pigswill and stinking of wine.

Old Mary had enough of Rich's drunk ways
Old Mary had a plan, she would sure end his days,
Rich wasn't skint, he was worth a bob or two
But gave none to Mary, just spent it on brew,
It was down in the cellar, what Mary did crave
An old wooden chest, where money was saved.

Mary did wait for the key in the door
The usual mumbles and falls to the floor,
Grumbles and groans, same as any other night
Mary walked over, the knife she gripped tight,
Rich turned around 'wife take off my coat'
Old Mary walked over with a lump in her throat.

Mary rose up her hand, her eyes full of hatred
Stuck the knife in his back, not once hesitated,
'Stop, please stop, please help me! ' he cried
Rich carried on screaming right up till he died,
As Rich lay there, blood spilling on the floor
In a frenzy was Mary, still stabbing him more.

Soon it was over, old Rich lay there dead
All covered in blood she collapsed on the bed,
She let out a laugh so heinous and foul
Like beasts in the night, who let out a howl,
'It's over' she laughed 'You're riches are mine.
That's the last time you come here all stinking of wine'

Now what did she do with poor Rich on the floor
She wrapped poor Rich up, and opened the door,
She said her farewell to that old drunkard Rich
Then tossed him downstairs that cold hearted witch,
For the rest of the night she cleaned up the blood
Quite pleased with herself, over what she had done.

Mary waited till morn, to the constable did go
And with a voice full of worry and a face full of woe,
Fantastic tales that Mary did spin
Wonderful tales of debauchery and sin,
The constable took pity, her frail face so sincere
How could any man do this and leave this poor dear.

Mary went home, and to the cellar did hurry
And looked for the chest where Rich kept his money,
Under rags and clutter, the treasure did sit
She pulled a pin from her hair, the lock she did pick,
She picked and she pulled, her eyes filled with greed
She picked and she pulled, until her fingers did bleed.

Now old Rich was no fool he was crafty not dumb
He booby trapped the chest with a spring loaded gun,
The lock made a click, Mary opened in haste
But the spring loaded gun went BANG! in her face,
Mary flew back to the floor, landed next to Rich
With a hole in her head, that cold hearted witch.

And that's the tale of murderous old Mary
The ending is blunt and not particularly scary,
learn Mary's lesson that crime never pays
leased you end up like her in a grave where she lays,
Now old Rich went to Heaven, with a pint and a smile
To Hell Mary went, to the devil most vile.

Topic(s) of this poem: comedy, dark, gothic, greed, justice, murder

Form: Verse


Poet's Notes about The Poem

This is a story of a women that murders her husband because she wants his money. it goes horribly wrong.

Comments about Old Mary by BlakeneyRose Berry

  • Fabrizio Frosini (1/23/2016 9:56:00 AM)


    Hi!
    would you like to join our new editorial project: '' POETRY AGAINST INEQUALITY ''?

    If so, let me know.
    Cheers
    ___________________________________

    - DEADLINE: February 20,2016
    - 1 POEM (in English) of maximum 25 lines;
    - SUBJECT: 'INEQUALITY' as it is described in the OXFAM Report 2016 (released on Jan.18)
    __________________________________
    (Report) Reply

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  • (10/26/2015 2:04:00 PM)


    You are such a sweet poet. I thoroughly like your tasty ballad. Thanks! (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, October 22, 2015

Poem Edited: Thursday, October 22, 2015


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