The Sacrifice and the Cloud

The cloud hung over the mountainside

Like a black and evil pall,

It took the sun from the valley, and

It held the folk in thrall,

The crops lay dormant in the fields

For they wouldn’t ripen now,

The farmers down in the valley cried,

‘It has to go, but how?’

 

They’d watched the cloud as it gathered

Bringing a dark and fierce storm,

With hail that battered the tender shoots

And flattened the barleycorn,

They shook their fists at the darkening sky

At this untoward attack,

But the cloud had threatened them, by and by

When the lightning answered back.

 

Then thunder rolled down the mountainside

And it shook their rustic homes,

It rattled the beams and the rafters, and

Was felt in their feeble bones,

They thought the wind would blow it away

But the air up there was calm,

And still it hovered there, day by day

To blanket each valley farm.

 

The tiny Kirk was amass with men

Who’d never been there before,

In hopes that a sudden show of faith

Would bring their god to the fore,

But the cloud still leered from the mountaintop

For weeks, and it hung there low,

‘Perhaps the answer is not with God,

But the gods of long ago!’

 

The older men in the village thought

The answer might lie with Baal,

And some had prayed to the thunder god

But the answer they got was hail,

‘There must be something the elders knew

To bring such things to a stop.’

‘That cloud up there is the Wandering Jew

Who never may reap a crop.’

 

They racked their brains for the thing to do

And one of them wasn’t nice,

‘What we need is a virgin girl

To send up a sacrifice.’

So they seized a maid called Annabelle,

Whose parents were dead and gone,

And dragged her up to the mountaintop

In hopes it would move along.

 

But they weren’t too sure just what to do,

Should they play a chord with a lyre,

Should they sound a note, then cut her throat

And throw her corpse on a fire?

She screamed at the top of her voice, just once

And the sun came shining through,

‘I’ve not been a virgin now, six months,

But I wouldn’t be telling you!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

I thought of all the farmers, and fears their hands were clutching, while waiting for disaster, of crops the hail was crushing. Of course, the wrath of god, would surely shake their dwell, and to the men who'd Use her, she smiled Go To Hell!! Scary, Funny , Master!! Barbz

[Jane Winters Rogers]

Brilliant and so funny i had a good belly laugh over this surprise ending

[Tate Morgan]

HAHAHA ‘That cloud up there is the Wandering Jew
Who never may reap a crop.’ Are you kidding me lol that was funny as hell Oh man that was excellent the ending divine