The Widow Crope

She cooked the final meals at the gaol,

Collected the hangman’s clothes,

For he inherited everything

Of the hanged man, heaven knows.

She gave the widows the twist of rope

That he’d used to hang their men,

It all came down to the widow Crope

And whether she liked you, then.

 

She’d interview the widow-to-be

With a questionnairre or two,

About her man, was he handy, and

What did he like to  do?

Then later, in the condemned man’s cell

She’d say that she’d cut him free,

‘You’ll never see your woman again,

So all you have left is me.’

 

Her husband had died on the gallows, so

She’d known of that final grope,

A widow Kerr had done it for her

Before she was widow Crope.

Then down beneath that terrible drop

She would wait for him to appear,

Hang on his feet, as well as not

While he kicked at the air in fear.

 

Then once that the corpse was pale and still

She’d take it down to the morgue,

Lay it out on a slab, and then

She’d borrow the gaoler’s sword.

And while they were pouring the candlewax

For a later hanging in chain,

She’d slice a couple of fingers off

For the rings that were hers to claim.

 

But then she might, in an act of spite

Cut off a dead man’s hand,

Dip it well in the candlewax

And walk it late through the land.

She’d light the end of the fingertips

And carry it like a torch,

Making her way where the widow lay

And spike it, out on her porch.

 

And wives would say as their husbands lay,

‘Don’t mess with the widow Crope,

If ever the hangman comes, that day

She may be your final hope.’

And those awaiting a capital case

Would sit with their husbands there,

And tell them that it would be okay

In that final act of despair.

 

She’d never worn anything else but black,

She called them her widows weeds,

But never, she said, felt safe from attack

For her husband’s evil deeds,

She finally married the hangman, Jed,

And handed the job to her,

An hour since she’d hung on his legs

And made her the widow Claire.

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Barbz]

Oohwee, as if the gallows alone was not creepy enough, your imagination was simply off the charts when it came to the widows mutilation of the bodies both for the gain of their rings 'n things, or merely "in an act of spite"! Your not so subtle reference to the widow having her way with the condemned man, as she was his last lusty hope, since he would never see his wife again, really intrigued me, as did your final twist. I hardly wanted this one to end, lol......Great piece, as usual, DLP. Barbz

[Marie]

That was grisly enough... I'm sure the widow Clair makes a good job of hanging, but I wonder who takes her place now with the condemned men...?

[Tomás Ó C..]

Return to form... women, what can you do with them, eh?

[emmajoy]

David Lewis Paget!! This really is a gruesome piece of writing.. a Gothic horror start to finish - and very much in between. Trouble is, however, it's written in your first class style and meter and more.. so how can one say anything really negative about. it. However, now's time for a romantic piece.. a Romeo & Juliet a la Paget!

[Lady Lola]

Luxuriously dark! What a nice allusion to the Hand of Glory, which is a very strange piece of folklore. I don't know if it really rendered its beholders motionless, but one could surely become petrified with horror, if receiving a candle made of a murderer's hand.
Another great poem, David!