The Tragic Tale Of Charles Poem by SN Kjaerbaek

The Tragic Tale of Charles

I know they punched him out
Twice in the eye, once in the mouth
Known as too nice and smiling
He was dark, tall, and beguiling
Not one to start a fight or pout.

He was a drunken addicted lout
That was when they punched him out
With permission of the director
The Hell's Angel came and light
Turned from shades of dark to sinister.

After midnight down at the campground
Too fond of white snow and too much money
So like Tom Thompson he wasn't homeward bound
The final drowning, the lake's his resting place
So his mother called a minister.

He looked them in the eye, bloodied face
They took him to his burial place
For preservation of love against hate
They moved quickly and made haste
In the end, its loss was a waste.

Too young not even twenty one
Not a wayward soldier, not a lost case
So he tasted his blood on his breath
And in pain, he kept a straight face.

She was a pretty girl! She was his curse!
Married in name only but lonely
How she loved the same devil drug as him
He called for her when he came by
Warned to stay away, but went on the sly.

Was it Joanne I heard him cry?
One last time, I heard the story
From the book buyers and soothsayers
The towns people and the renegades
The transients, the lawyers, the passersby.

I heard it from the clubbies on the sly
From the pawners and in Christian prayers
I heard the story like Tom Thompson
Quickly, brick-by-brick they attached
His arms and legs weighed down, ligatures.

Bound and in the boat, there's chanting
Punishment for forbidden romancing
Memories of rosaries and Last Supper Prayers
Oh! The water is deep and cold down there
So they sank him down from the boat.

Prices for daring to return once,
He breathed in the water down there
For liking a girl, going back once
To her against their warnings
And by his own need and will.

That's the tragic tale of Charles
Always smiling, not one to snarl
He went down just like Thompson did
Just a junkie in love out for a hit.