The Devil on the Tree

It was coming on up to Christmas

When I received an unusual text,

‘We’re travelling round the country and

We thought we’d visit you next.’

It was signed Giselle, the cousin from Hell,

And I shook right down to my boots,

For ‘we’ meant daughter Annabelle Leigh

With a reputation to suit.

 

I think she was sired by a Demon down

In the Seventh Circle of Hell,

She’d never been smacked, not even a tap

When she’d scream, and shout and yell,

Her mother was one of those wussy types

Who’d studied psychology,

Was into behaviour models, rather

Than putting her over her knee.

 

They came with their bag and baggage, said

They’d only be here for a month,

And Annabelle Leigh went on a spree

Spitting all over our lunch,

‘Now don’t be naughty,’ her mother said,

‘Or you’ll make your uncle mad!’

‘I hate him!’ she said, looking at me,

‘You tell him he’s not my Dad!’

 

I thought, ‘Thank God for that!’ there are

Small mercies in this world,

And one, not being the father of

This hateful, spiteful girl,

She turned my home to a charnel house

When she cauterised the cat,

Burning the fur of my Burmese with

A basin of scalding fat.

 

I asked if ever she’d sought the help

Of a child psychologist,

Giselle just sat and she simpered, ‘Oh,

She’s never as bad as this!

You must have done something to worry her,

Keep calm, and try to be nice.’

But I was too busy to answer, while

Packing the cat in ice.

 

‘Children need to feel valued,’ said

Giselle, one day to me,

But I was stood by the window

Watching her kid ring-bark my tree,

She cut off the neighbour’s pony-tail

As she lay asleep on the deck,

My hands were jerking in spasms as

I thought of them round her neck.

 

At Christmas-time out shopping she

Demanded the best of dolls,

Would scream, and fill up the shopping cart

With fairies, dwarfs and trolls,

But when it was too expensive and

Giselle said, ‘Put it back!’

She’d lie on the floor and hold her breath

‘Til her face was almost black.

 

On Christmas Eve, I trimmed the tree

At about the midnight hour,

As I wrapped the various packages, I

Could feel her in my power,

She wouldn’t forget this Christmas was

The promise I made to me,

For two could play at the naughty game

She’d find out, Annabelle Leigh!

 

I took the fairy from the top

Of the tree that it had graced,

Unwrapped the special surprise I’d bought

And put it in her place,

A large black rubber devil with

Red eyes and a pair of horns,

And a tongue that sprung from its evil face

For a foot and a half or more.

 

I’d coated the tongue with Rapid-fix

That instant stick cement,

And added the smell of rotting flesh

And Burmese excrement,

At dawn, when Annabelle Leigh came down

She looked for the fluffy dog,

But when she opened the parcel it

Was just my exploding frog!

 

The frog was coated in treacle that

Was stuck to her hands and hair,

She got out a single scream before

Her mother came running there,

The spring released on the devil that

Came leaping out of the tree,

Its tongue flew out, and stuck to the lip

Of that darling, Annabelle Leigh.

 

She stared in the big black devil’s eyes

As it hung, and bounced from her lip,

The eyes popped out and revolved as well,

Giselle came out, and flipped,

I doubt they’ll ever drop in on me

Again, they left in a whirl,

Annabelle sees a psychiatrist,

A well behaved little girl!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Lena M. P.]

Yes dear Dr. Spock ruined many a child. I used to tell people the best use for one of his books was the seat of the pants. Of course that just probably got me on someones watch list for sure. Great write. There have been a few over the years I would have loved to pull the trick on.

[Tony Jordan]

Laughing here.
Aww the poor moggie
The wee imp got her comeuppance.
A well rounded individual now with a tree phobia no doubt.
An alternative Xmas tale David.
Happy 2017.

[T.S. Sky]

Great writing and great trick to play on a devilish little girl.

[Relic]

You never disappoint with your writing David. Your style, words, rhyming, rhythm and stories surpass all others. Excellent work.

[emmajoy]

You write with a crown on your head, Mr. Paget, sir.. ever the poet you work with and in perfect meter, a gift for story telling whether past, present or future involved and somehow. you make a reader grin, laugh, sob, choke back tears ; whichever, there's always the memory of a great piece of writing. After a second read, how i love the way you add dialogue.. tis like a conversation between the poet and the 'other you'

Thank you for posting such a fun piece.. an example of how or now not to behave.. ouch, serve her right! Brat or other words similar!

[Peter H]

as always this was riveting you have a aptitude to take simple parable tales and you make them into immaculate narrative poetry :)

[Devanshu Rajput]

enjoyed the fantastic piece...........as always

[redflutterby]

Oh what a devilishly funny tale you weave. That spoiled little spawn didn't know who she was dealing with. Bravo!!!! Lol...

[David Lewis Paget]

Now the title of my new book on Lulu.com and available as a paperback.
82 Narrative Poems, 273 pages, price at Lulu

http://www.lulu.com/shop/david-lewis-paget/the-devil-on-the-tree-other-poems-of-dysfunction/paperback/product-20923345.html;jsessionid=A1FD38277373770E1204B4FCC3EDE066

[ms. barrie]

oh this is such a delightful, enchanting, yet very humorous poem. Your gift for words never fails to amaze me! lovely write, thanks for sharing :)