The Widow Hamm & the Love-Me TreeA Poem by David Lewis PagetI’d been on my own for
so many years That my heart had turned
to stone, It must have shown in my
miserable face For the women left me
alone, They took one look,
thought: ‘Not for me, I’ve not even seen him
smile!’ If they only knew how I
ached inside, Or walked in my shoes
for a while. The one young love that
I’d thought to have Had married a banker’s
clerk, I don’t know how he
attracted her, They must have met in
the dark. He walked knock-kneed
with a crooked grin She couldn’t have loved
his looks, But he bought her a fine
old Georgian house, He must have been
cooking the books!’ I thought I’d wait ‘til
she tired of him, I shouldn’t have long to
wait, I’d walk on by and I’d
wave to her, Or stand by her garden
gate, But she seemed content
as the years just went And I lived my life in
dread, That I’d watch myself
grow old and lie Alone in my four-post
bed. I would drink alone in
the Saracen’s Arms When the rain was wet on
the stones, And a stranger, there
from the countryside Came in, to warm up his
bones, We sat together beside
the hearth And he soon confided in
me: ‘I’ve got me a new young
wife,’ he said, ‘My thanks to the
Love-Me Tree!’ I looked him carefully
up and down, He seemed to be past his
prime, The battle scars on his
craggy face Were set in a long, deep
line, He laughed, ‘I know what
you’re thinking, Why would a young girl
fancy me? I put it down to the
Widow Hamm And the spell of her
Love-Me Tree!’ He told me then of the
Widow Hamm In the village of Cauter
Hook, ‘You can look in vain
for the Widow’s name But she’ll not be found
in the book. She lives in a cottage
by candlelight With her water drawn
from a well, And under the tree by
the well, you see Is the place where she
casts her spell.’ ‘The water bubbles up
out of the ground And it feeds the roots
of the tree, Then the tree it
blossoms with heart shaped darts, She calls it the Love-Me
Tree, You give her the name of
the one you love And she casts her spell
in the air, Then you take a blossom
and place in the hand Of the one that you want
to care.’ He told me about the
claims she made Of the men she had
helped, for sure, All of them wed to some
young girl Who wouldn’t look twice,
before, He told me then of a
banker’s clerk Knock-kneed, and ugly as
sin, Who’d lusted after a
Janice White, And how she’d been taken
in. My heart had stopped,
and a chill ran down From my neck to the base
of my spine, So that was how he had
stolen her, The girl who should have
been mine! I said I’d like to meet
Widow Hamm And he told me the way
to go, So I turned up there on
her doorstep, said: ‘There’s a girl I would
like to know!’ She took me in and she
asked her name And I said it was Janice
White, The Widow paused, and
she pursed her lips, And her face turned pale
with fright. ‘I know that name, but
she’s lost to you, I cast her spell in the
Spring, It was not that many
years ago But I see that you’re
suffering!’ She charged me double
the normal fee As she said it was
‘fraught with strife, If he should find I have
spelled again And cost him his lovely
wife.’ But she took me into the
garden there And she sat me under the
tree, Then she muttered some
incantation that Would bind the woman to
me. I took the blossom and
hid it well As I sauntered along the
Strand, Called to Janice who
came to me And I placed it there,
in her hand. She seemed to stop, and
she stared at me With a new look in her
eyes, ‘But my, you’re suddenly
handsome,’ She exclaimed, in her
surprise. I told her where I was
living, and She arrived, that
afternoon, She said, ‘I’m suddenly
weary of My husband, that
poltroon!’ I told her how I had
loved her, that I’d waited for years in
vain, Then she held me close
and she kissed me, Said: ‘You won’t have to
wait again!’ I thought it would have
been settled, but The spell was just half
as strong, Fighting against the
other spell It knew neither right
nor wrong, For the first twelve
hours in every day She swore she was mine
to keep, But right on noon she
would go back home And then she’d begin to
weep. ‘I don’t know what I am
doing,’ she Would say when she came
to me, ‘I think that I must
still love him…’ Then I thought of the
Love-Me Tree. I said, ‘You don’t
really love him, he Once captured you with a
spell!’ Then I told her about
the Love-Me Tree, And she said, ‘You can
go to hell!’ Her eyes were suddenly
opened, she Could see us for what we
were, A couple of ugly
troglodytes, Both with a love for
her, But she went and married
a handyman And she sent him at
night to see, And while the Widow Hamm
was asleep He chopped down the
Love-Me Tree! David Lewis Paget © 2013 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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