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.

[Keith]

Fantastic tale brilliantly told. Cleverly done with the temptress bringing romance to the farmyard.

[Marie]

She might not have been a witch, but she certainly...what rhymes with it...

[quinfinn]

an excellent example of mob mentality and how the rumor mill works, typical of the very reasons for this type of behavior. as always, an engaging and triumphant poem, told in your familiar idiom. well done, sir...and congrats on top writer....

[Tomahawk Joe]

good poem a roller coaster of emotional expressions

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Another interesting tale. :-)

[Emerald Seas]

Well, this is definitely a tale!
Women can be evil when they feel threatened or scorned. A sign of low self esteem if you ask me! A fabulous writing as always, David.

[Lena M. P.]

I loved the title. It drew me in first thing. The girl should have known to stay away from the women's men for a woman scorned is not a pretty thing to behold. Reminded me a bit of the Salem witch trials. I loved the tempo on this one. It almost say through each of the verses. Nicely penned!

[Mehak Mushtaq]

Amazing poetry sir. Wow, how do you come up with such amazing stories?

[redflutterby]

Makes me think of the stories about my father in laws grandmother. It was said that if you crossed her she would make your chickens give bloody eggs or your cow would go dry. They said she would give you the evil eye or show up as a black cat. Of course all superstitions of mountain people many years ago...but make for good stories. Really enjoyed this poem... you have the touch David. ;-)

[Tate Morgan]

‘By God, you’re an evil b***h!’

LOL oh how the tongues will wag at the beautiful woman from the ugly hag