Against All Odds

She lived in a tiny cottage

On top of a sea-bound bluff,

Looked down on the cold blue waters

In fair weather, and in rough,

The smoke that curled from her chimney piece

Was snatched away by the wind

So couldn’t obscure the window where

She stood, and her eyes were pinned.

She saw the gaggle of soldiers

Rise up, and out of the marsh,

And remembered a past encounter,

Their treatment of her was harsh,

She snipped the lock on the window, then

She hurried to bar the door,

Raised the trap to the cellar, and

Slid down to the cellar floor.

She lay in hopes they would pass on by,

Would ignore her humble home,

Would think that there was a man nearby

Not a woman there, alone,

She knew of the fate of others who

Had invited the soldiers in,

For many a soldier’s bairn was born

The result of a soldier’s sin.

She heard them muttering round the house

And tapping the window pane,

Beating a tattoo on the door

Till she thought she’d go insane,

They’d seen the smoke from her chimney piece

And they called, ‘Hey you inside,

We need to shelter the night at least,

It’s wintry here outside.’

But still she lay on the cellar floor

As quiet as any mouse,

She wasn’t going to let them in 

To her tiny little house,

She heard the crash as the timber gave

Away on her cottage door,

And heard the thump of their feet above

As they stomped across her floor.

She heard the sound of their puzzlement

When they found the cottage bare,

‘Somebody must have lit the fire,

But now, they’re just not there.’

She heard them smashing her crockery

And drinking beer from her pot,

She never had enough food to spare

But she knew they’d eat the lot.

Down below was a musket that

She’d kept well oiled and cleaned,

Along with a horn of powder that

She’d felt worthwhile redeemed,

She found the shot and she rammed it home

There was nothing left to chance,

The first to open that trapdoor would

Begin his final dance.

The night came on and they settled down,

Above, she could hear them snore,

She wondered whether they’d go away

When the sun came up, once more,

But then, sometime in the early hours

She heard the trapdoor creak,

And a pair of eyes were hypnotised

As they saw the musket speak.

There once was a tiny cottage

On top of a sea-bound bluff,

It’s now burnt out, just a shell without

A roof or a door, it’s rough,

While down in the cold blue waters

Lies a woman, drowned and dead,

And up on the bluff, a soldier’s grave,

Buried, without a head.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[R Smith]

wow! David a strong and sorrowful poem, this is a tale of fear and the ignorance of man, I have to assume the woman was murdered by the soldiers, with just one shot for the dead man and no chance to load before getting caught, did they throw her into the sea? I would think so, such great sorrow in this, it reflects the horrors of so many acts committed during war, thanks for this great story :)

[TL Boehm]

Such a sad tale but spun so cleverly. I so enjoy the way you weave atmosphere into your work - visual and lilting to the ear.

[Roxie M]

After the snooping one was dead, the rest of the soldier fled, leaving the woman and her bad knee, to load and bury her enemy! This is well done! Me, thinks you like a strong female character in your poetry.

[andrew mitchell]

Ok David this was a good chilling write with a nice dash of horror in the mix

[A Soap Mess Stories]

A great ending I didn't expect...another chilling tale David.

[Valentine]

Fantastic write, she must have run for safety and ended up headed into the sea. Why didn't his buddies shoot her? Very interesting tale from the master of tall tales. Kudos. Valentine

[Lady Lola]

While I agree that it is dangerous in a war zone as a woman living alone. I can't help but notice, that she (and we) will never know, whether the soldiers would have just shared a meal with her and slept on the floor, moving on the next morning. The actions she chose led to this quite self-fulfilling prophecy.

As beautifully written as ever; absolutely gorgeous!

[Confuser]

David: This poem started with such gorgeous imagery, the tiny cottage, looking down at the cold water and then the tragedy forthcoming was very sad indeed. I love the ending, Buried without a head. That made me smile. The brute got what he deserved. Emotions run high in this piece, thinking of a woman alone, knowing her fate. The fear she must have felt. Unfortunately this composition is very realistic and I'm certain happens today. It made me think of The American Civil War and the events that happened, some very similar and worse. It is another great piece of work and of course I loved it!

[Barbz]

There were no winners here in this wonderful, well-written poem...Her seemingly peaceful life in the little cottage on the hill, changed as through her windows, the cluster of soldiers appeared. Knowing their reputation, and having dealt with their chaos before, she hid herself, in the trapdoor clutching payback should she be revealed......and you reveal it so well in your last stanza!! Quite bone chilling, and, as usual, a readers choice....Barbz

[Marie]

She was a very brave woman, facing those odds. She knew she couldn't win against those soldiers, yet she made a courageous stand. I hope I could do as well.