The Man Who Lived in the CaveA Poem by David Lewis PagetWe’d moved on in to a clifftop house When our babe was very young, I had to erect a barbed wire fence To keep our darling at home, For Ellen was a precocious child With a beautiful, smiling face, But for all our efforts to tame her down It was hard to keep her in place.
She would bounce about, would run on out The moment we turned our backs, Many a time I would see her climb And she’d give us heart attacks. ‘She’s halfway up the chimney, John, She’s climbed right up to the thatch,’ The wife would cry, and I’d almost die In bringing our daughter back.
She’d stand awhile by the cottage gate That led on out to the track, That wound its way right down to the bay On a narrow, winding path, I wired the gate, and I thought it held Till the day she broke on through, And made her little way to the bay Before we even knew.
I found her at the mouth of a cave That sat just up from the shore, And breathed a sigh of relief as we Embraced, like never before, But she pointed in to the darkened cave With her tiny little hand, ‘I want to go in the cave with him, That funny old sailor man!’
‘There isn’t a man in the cave,’ I said, ‘You must have been seeing things.’ ‘Oh no! He asked me to follow him And he showed me lots of rings. He had a black patch over his eye, And a ponytail in his hair, I want to go where the sailor goes, Will you let me go in there?’
I carried her back up the winding path Though she clung to me and cried, ‘That cave is simply an eerie place And it’s cold and damp inside.’ I should have taken more notice then, I thought it was just a rave, For days, young Ellen would speak of him, The man who lived in the cave.
I went to check at the library, The history of the town, And read that smugglers used that cave When nobody was around, And long before there were buildings there A smuggler on the run, Had sheltered there in that dismal cave With his daughter, Ellen Gunn.
I raced on home to the clifftop house To find young Ellen gone, The wife was having hysterics there And I was overcome. I ran, pell mell down the clifftop path It was such a deathly scare, And searched to the end of that awful cave And I found her Teddy Bear.
A fisherman on the beach had seen Young Ellen on the sand, Then watched as a sailor took her in To the cave there, hand in hand. ‘I thought that he was her father,’ said The rustic fisherman, ‘She seemed quite happy to go with him And he looked a kindly man.’
I must have searched it a dozen times And I called, and cursed, and cried, And prayed to god that I’d find my girl Hid somewhere deep inside, When out of the depths, she toddled out Stood still, turned back to the cave, And that’s when I glimpsed that sailor man, Who stood at the back, and waved.
David Lewis Paget © 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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