The Ice Scream

The last of the autumn sun had gone,

The winter was blowing in,

And on her broom, the witch of the north

Arrived with her bag of sin,

We’d laid new straw in the cattle byre

Locked in the rooster and hen,

But the fox had dug right under the wire

And done for them both again.

 

The pigs got out, and rooted around

And trampled the pumpkins in,

When Molly said, ‘I tell you again,

It’s down to old Martha’s kin.

She’ll be the death of the poor old duck,

Her flounces and bill and coo,

She’s got all the menfolk ruffled up

And I’ve seen her looking at you!’

 

I looked away and I baled the hay

At the mention of Lizzie Pride,

She’d come to stay at her aunt’s the day

Her mother and father died,

But Martha couldn’t control her then

She had the place in a whirl,

With her long, long legs, and eyes that begged

That said ‘I’m a wayward girl.’

 

She’d had Tom Horne in a field of corn,

She’d had Dick Black in the hay,

And in the barn of our rustic farm

She’d bared her legs my way,

Now Molly is just a homely wench

And she rarely lights my spark,

But Lizzie Pride took my breath aside

And I had her, out in the park.

 

The frost came in with a vengeance

And it froze the edge of the tarn,

She said, ‘It’s getting too cold out here,

I’ll meet you back in the barn.’

I knew it was getting dangerous

For Molly had seemed forlorn,

She’d got to whisper with Mrs. Black

And the girlfriend of Tom Horne.

 

The rumours started away back then

That a certain girl was cursed,

The cows got undulant fever

With our milking shed the worst,

The evil follows the witch, they said,

Then a pig and a heifer died,

And Molly pointed the finger, then

Went into the house and cried.

 

I’d been up late with a bloated cow

So for once I slept in late,

And when I woke there was no-one there,

I went to the garden gate,

And over at the edge of the tarn

They were there with the ducking chair,

With Lizzie tied as she screamed and cried

They ducked her down to her hair.

 

I ran as fast as I could, I called,

I ranted and screamed and raved,

They’d ducked her down for the second time

Through the hole in the ice they’d made,

I waded in and I pulled her out

And I said, ‘She’s never a witch!’

Then looked at Molly, her eyes cast down:

‘By God, you’re an evil b***h!’

 

I went alone to the funeral

Of that young and carefree heart,

Nobody else would come along

Or admit they’d played a part,

Then I packed a bag and said goodbye

To Molly and all I knew,

But think of those fateful words each day:

‘I’ve seen her looking at you!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[thibodauxguy]

Oh boy, this was a mover and a shaker, David Lewis Paget. You had me going from the get go and didn't let up with your rhythmic tale of a wayward soul, the cheating men she pulled into her path and evil in the women who took matters into their own hands. Love this. There seems to be a moral withing the confines of this poem, but I'll be damned if I can locate it. I was wondering about the title, and it was at the end that I figured it out.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Envy and jealousy caused many women to be burned at the stake, and it seems poor Lizzie Pride suffered at the hands of the same. Poor thing!

[TL Boehm]

Women - OY! A tale like this makes me glad I have no daughters. This is a riveting little tale of vigilante justice meted out on a poor soul....undeserved.
well penned.

[john alan willox]

not a style i normally read - but glad i did. old school new school - country and western and middle earth. quick and generous in it's imagery - thank you for writing - reminds me that unryhmed is not always the way to go - except i can't ryhme. It really reminds me of a couple of country songs while holding the verve of an old sonnet. Lovely.

[Brett Pritchard]

Brilliant.
A truly engaging piece with a lovely moral centre.
Tapping into black desires and evil doings.
Full of lovely lines and hooks.

Big big well done.

BP

[carol burgess romance]

Quite a list of players...I think somewhere throughout my life I have mat most of them....entertaining write as always

[Foxemerald]

This is a lively, engaging depiction of a tragic tale! The characters were indeed in their own type of a rut, weren't they? I feel as though I went through the terrible, heart-played, chilling, sad, overturn right along with you, and, of course, the loosed barn animals . . . never mind the fact that at one point they were eaten. The color and the animation with which the characters were portrayed, with a fluid rhythm, was catching, and, I daresay, quite thrilling . . .

Because of my penchant for your poetry, I am curious to know whether you can advise me on a certain matter. I am attempting to establish myself as a freelance writer, and the amount of technical work I am asked to do makes it difficult for me to switch back into my creative mindset at times. Compartmentalizing sometimes becomes difficult. How do you channel your voice so that it always takes on just the perfect qualities, for whatever aspect you are required to delve into? Most of the time, my technical writing is tainted by the creative word, and, sometimes, my creative writing becomes a bit more technical, depending on the work I've completed that day.

Can you offer me any suggestions or advice?

Thank you so much. Looking forward to reading your other poems!

FE ~

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

Loved this rollick!

[Baby Ricochet]

Wrong girl gets the blame. She needed a good Lawyer to tie the case up indefinitely. Great story

[OklahomaRose]

I really enjoyed reading this poem all the way down to the last line. You are a very good poet!