The Witch & the Windmill

She could make a cow grow sick and die,

She could sicken a healthy pig,

She could poison somebody’s cottage pie

But she couldn’t harm Tom Rigg.

For Tom wasn’t born of woman

He’d been plucked too soon from the womb,

When his mother lay there dying

From a concoction stirred with a broom.

 

So he’d grown up broad, and tall and strong

With a warlock cast to his eye,

Whatever the spell she tried on him

He would turn on her, ‘Just try!’

She conjured a flight of vampire bats

To follow him here and there,

But the bats were spurned, and then returned

And they tangled up in her hair.

 

She would lie in wait by the farmer’s gate

With the graveyard dog in a ditch,

So he’d open the sluice that was not in use,

And soak her, every stitch,

She’d scream, come tumbling after him,

‘You think you’re so fine and big,

I’ll spell that you fall in love with me,

Just see if I don’t, Tom Rigg.’

 

For deep down under her witch’s pride

Was the beat of a woman’s heart,

And the sight of Tom had sent it, quivering

Shaking itself apart,

But Tom had kept himself to himself

Immune to a woman’s wiles,

Determined to fix the old windmill

On the other side of the stile.

 

He lived in the ancient tower mill

That he’d bought, picked up for a song,

It hadn’t been used for a hundred years

Since part of the works went wrong,

The sails were seized, poked up at the sky

In a way that said, ‘We’re spent!’

But Tom believed that he knew just why;

The cog on the shaft was bent.

 

He cleaned it up and he scraped the rust

And he greased the copper sheath,

He checked it over and sideways, down

And he peered from underneath,

But the shaft was rigid, it wouldn’t turn

He was giving up in despair,

When late one night with a mighty crash

There was something amiss out there.

 

He peered up under a rising moon

There was something caught in the sail,

All he could see was a besom broom

But then came an awful wail,

The witch was caught in the topmost sail

Where she’d swooped in the night unseen,

And now she was clung to the old wood frame

And all she could do was scream.

 

There wasn’t a ladder that went so high

So all he could do was stare,

‘Now how do you think I could rescue you,

And how did you get up there?’

The mill was starting to creak and groan

As the wind came over the hill,

The sails were starting to slowly turn

With the witch stuck firmly still.

 

The weight of the witch had freed them up

And she shrieked as the sails whirled round,

While Tom was laughing, joyfully, merrily,

Rolling over the ground,

‘I’ll swear you’ve done me a favour, Jane,

I was going to call it quits,

But now, if ever you come back down,

I’m ready to kiss a witch!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

So near; and yet, so far. That poor witch almost got her wish, but she's spinning in the wind.

Love the comedic ending.

[Tate Morgan]

hahaha that was great. Well the witch at the gate was so like many old witches. She wanted what you had and wasnt above making you give it to her. Too bad what she wanted wasnt what she needed.A ladder might be in order.

[TL Boehm]

Who would have thought about romance when it comes to a witch. And there she hangs - thwarted. A wonderful tale.

[Ravyne Hawke]

Aww love at the end.. I really loved the weaving of this one, David. He may have been immune to her spells, but not her womanhood.

[s y e]

This is awesome, David - I love how they came together, the impossibles became possibles, I think, or so to say, ha.

~ Noodle ~

[Marie]

Great story. I love the way these two impossibles finally bonded.

[Anand Sehgal]

Fantastic seriocomedy , Loved the fairy tale imagery Sir :) brilliant piece.

[shallimarRose]

Well DLP... All I can say is I would love to have a little peek into your head... Your imagination is really something.. Loved this.. shallimarRose