Guardians of the ChestA Poem by David Lewis PagetMy father married a scheming witch The month that my mother died, He barely waited her final twitch And it killed something inside, I suddenly found myself alone Apart from my brother, Liam, But my heart inside had turned to stone And the house was a mausoleum. I’d hear her wandering round the house When my father was away, And something about the air in there Made me feel some blank dismay, For Liam was little help to me He fell to the witch’s charm, I tried to warn, but he looked in scorn While I only felt alarm. My father became a wealthy man When my mother left him all, She’d been the heir to a ladyship And the deeds to Woolhampton Hall, A wooden chest with the whole bequest Was locked in a basement room, And giant rocks in a jewel box Would flash, they said, in the gloom. But Lara never could find the key Though she searched, both high and low, My father never let on he knew For he’d promised my mother so, When she had said, with her final breath ‘I know all about the witch, Don’t let her near my jewel box Or you’ll end in a pauper’s ditch.’ He carried the key most everywhere In his waistcoat, or his cuff, He fastened it to his horse’s hair And once to my choirboy’s ruff, So Lara stormed while he was away, I could hear her scream and curse, And beat her feet on the basement door, I didn’t know which was worse. She asked Liam if he’d help her find The key, and she’d see him right, I heard him lurking about the house To our father’s room, at night. I asked him, ‘Where is your loyalty, To your father or the witch?’ But he cursed and said flamboyantly, ‘Well, the witch will make me rich!’ ‘I wouldn’t go in that basement room,’ I said, in a word of warning, Remembering something my mother said To her mirror, one dark morning, ‘I’ve made it plain in my will,’ she said, ‘And it’s there in the many riders, Whoever thinks they can steal from me, Must deal with a world of spiders.’ And so it passed, when Liam at last, Found out where the key was hiding, Was taking her to the basement stair While my father was out, and riding, I heard the screams in the basement room, That sounded much like a riot, By the time that I went to lock them in, Both he and the witch were quiet! David Lewis Paget
© 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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