Jack Ketch

Life can be cruel...

I was only sixteen, when I was seduced

By a woman of thirty-three,

The Governor's wife at the Prisoner's Ball

And she offered to dance with me,

I blushed, I stammered, and hung my head

But she moved with a fluid grace,

She took my hand for the Colonel's Waltz

And squeezed in a warm embrace.

 

I did the odd job at the prison then,

Just sweeping and cleaning the yard,

Carrying messages round each wing

But nothing you'd call too hard,

I'd sometimes go to the Governor's House

To help with the garden there,

And I'd see his wife, sweet Caroline,

As she sunned herself in a chair.

 

She would lie in that part of the garden

Shaded cool by an apple tree,

Reading a book in her cozy nook

Taking little account of me,

Or so I thought, 'til the day she sought

Me out at the Prisoner's Ball,

When she whispered things in my ear that night

And pinned me close to the wall.

 

I was just a boy, and she wanted a toy to

Play with when she was bored,

She egged me on in the garden shade

While I just felt overawed,

Then I heard that she was expecting, and

She cut me out of her life,

She played that part so wonderfully well,

The dutiful Governor's wife.

 

A boy was born in the early spring

And they christened him Billy Cole,

I wasn't allowed near a yard of him

And it ate deep into my soul,

I watched him grow from a distance then,

But she finally got me the sack,

She told the Governor I'd been spying

Whenever she lay on her back.

 

The years went by and I got me a trade

But I lived right next to the Jail,

I'd watch them motor right by me then

And I felt myself turn pale,

They looked so fine in their motorcade

With the windows wound right down,

My son grew tall by the prison wall

As the weeks and the years rolled round.

 

The hard times came, the hard times went,

I needed some extra pounds,

The government service advertised,

I applied, and they asked me round,

I must have done well in their questionnaire

For I got the job in the end,

They would call me, give me a time and place

And expect me to attend.

 

I didn't speak of my duties then,

It wasn't considered 'form',

It was only once in a purple moon

The official summons came,

I kept my secret and nobody asked,

I worked at my trade by day,

Then every so often the phone would ring:

'I'm sorry, I'm called away!'

 

For twenty years I held my peace,

But followed my Billy Cole,

I drank in the bars where he would drink,

Sat deep in a corner stall,

I watched him mixing in company

I'd have warned him of, if I could,

But whenever I plucked the courage up

My tongue would turn to wood.

 

I heard his name start cropping up

With a gang in the old East End,

His mouth had taken a surly look

And he seemed like he needed a friend,

But his eyes were hard as the hardest flint

And his cheek was scarred to the bone,

He carried a blade and a razor strop

So I left him well alone.

 

His mother, Caroline, sought him out

And begged him to go with her,

I heard him laugh in a quick retort:

'Go home to the Governor?

You must be mad,' he told her then,

'He's not been a father to me!'

And Caroline cried, and dabbed at her eyes

While I watched from under a tree.

 

I turned away - 'Too late, too late,'

I thought, 'if she'd only seen

That blood was thicker than water...'

But all that was a might-have-been.

The tears sprang as I walked away

And rolled at my cheek, undone;

The dye was cast and the lad was lost

Before I could find my tongue.

 

He killed a man in a brawl one day

Over some cards that lied,

Was wrestled down to the floor and held

For the constable outside,

They took him down to the holding cells

And charged him there on the spot,

'It's Murder One, my lad, you'll need

All the guile that your lawyer's got.'

 

He went in front of the Bailey, where

The balance of justice stands,

The trial was over before he looked

On down at his trembling hands,

The Judge came back, put on the cap

So black, right over his head,

Delivered the dreaded few words that he heard,

And those were... 'hanged by the neck...'

 

I got to visit him only the once, down

Where the condemned man waits,

He scowled as I stood by the door, and said:

'Have you come with your measuring tapes?'

I said, 'No son, but I had to come,

To right a very old wrong...

By God in heaven, I'll tell you now -

I'm your father, and you're my son!'

 

I wept, he wept, and I left him there

To pay for his terrible crime,

And I... I took to my bed just then,

Pulled all the curtains and blinds,

A week, two weeks, I was woken then

With a summons, a time and place,

So I packed a bag in the early hours

Took up my travelling case.

 

At dawn, I walked through the prison yard

Was shown through the bars and gates,

I spread my gear in an empty cell,

And opened my travelling case,

They brought him down with the chaplain then

So brave, but a little sad,

As I pulled the hood down over his eyes

I swear that he called me - 'Dad!'

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[C.T. Bailey]

This is a most incredible piece of writing. I shall ponder this until the morning. The saddness he must have felt. The lonliness the boy had as well...David...this is one of the most moving pieces I have ever read. Don't know what to say really. Speechless. Your mind is an amazing crucible of emotional creation.

Todd

[Christine]

Wow, thank you so much for sharing this with me...what an incredible story you wove. You are an amazing writer. I loved the flow of the words, and the images you created. Great write!! Love it. Thanks again for sharing it!! :-)

[Norma J. Jessee]

Oh David, you have brought tears to my eyes with this one. Like the reviewer before me This is going to my fav's. You are a MASTER at writing. When a writer can move the reader to tears or laughter or anger any of the emotions then they have suceeded at being a true writer and you have done that over and over again.
This is one of your finest.

[Wildfleour]

You are a master at storytelling within a rhyme scheme. I think this might be one of my favorites of yours.

[Leah]

What a tale, what a tale..... that made my face go pale! With much spur I did read with a purr, as always Monsiuer! You never cease to amaze this Lass! Create more, more, more! And always be blessed!