David Lewis Paget

Gold Star - 9,004 Points (22.11.1944 / Nottingham, England/live in Australia)

The Ghost Of Varley Scribbs - Poem by David Lewis Paget

‘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…’
We all sat round in the darkened room
By a candle’s flickering light,
We thought we might be in for a treat
With a tale from Jonathon Blight.

I winked at Jack and he winked at me
And we sat back with a pipe,
While Janet sat there, clutching her knee
And we thought, ‘Oh, this is ripe! ’
We’d heard all Jonathon’s tales before
But I don’t think Janet had,
Enough to give a vicar the creeps
For they’d always end up bad.

While Barb just sat in the corner there
And played with the Tarot Cards,
She’d just turned over the card of Death
And had thumped the table, hard.
‘I’d just checked in to a Cornish Inn
That was called ‘The Seaman’s Rest’,
The woman there was as hard as nails
And I must say - Not impressed! ’

‘I had a drink at the bar in there
But I went to bed by ten,
The room was filled with a musty smell
Unused, since I don’t know when,
I woke up round about three o’clock
In a bluish, misty light,
A woman stood by the window, staring
Out to the shades of night.’

‘I half sat up, but she didn’t move
And a form rushed from the door,
The shape of a man, his arm upraised
So quick, it was all I saw.
He grabbed the woman around the neck
And then, with a single stroke,
He drew a razor across her neck
And he cut the woman’s throat! ’

Janet was sat with her jaw agape
So she didn’t notice Jack,
He’d moved up slowly behind her
When he saw that her jaw was slack.
He drew the back of a kitchen knife
Across her pearly throat,
And Janet jumped to her feet and screamed
In a long and high pitched note.

She fell, collapsed on the table then
And slid on down to the floor,
‘What was the point of that, ’ said Barb,
‘You’ve killed the girl, for sure! ’
We checked, and found that her heart had stopped,
And Jack, his face was white,
‘We’d better call her an ambulance
Or we’ll not get home tonight.’

I thought I’d better get out of there
And leave Jack to his fate,
He’d have to answer their questions, then
I said, ‘It’s getting late! ’
So Barb took off with her Tarot cards
And I said ‘bye’ to His Nibs,
But he said, ‘I’ve not finished the tale
Of the Ghost of Varley Scribbs! ’

3 April 2013

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Poem Edited: Friday, October 11, 2013

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