When Carter’s party found the tomb
Of Pharaoh King Tutankhamun
They gazed upon the scene with some dismay
At cups and bowls strewn all about
Discarded clothes, some inside-out
In random piles of total disarray.
Add rotting fruit, some moldy bread,
Old board games found beneath the bed
And robbery was feared with utter gloom.
Though if he’d raised a son, or two
He would have learned, as many do
That’s how most teenage boys will leave a room.
Don’t walk too near the woods, go ’round
Especially at night
And if you must, don’t make a sound
Keep low and out of sight
Don’t whistle, sing or kick at stones
Don’t stop to climb a tree
For, if you do she’ll boil your bones
And have you for her tea
Because The Witch of Oldham Woods
Takes little ones who stray
Extinguishing the childhoods
Of those who lose their way
Who’ll never hear a mother’s words
Before their empty grave
Whose names are rarely ever heard
Whose souls no man can save
Don’t walk too near the woods, turn ‘round
For, all I say is true
And pray you’re found on hallowed ground
When she comes after you
Explorers who first reached the Nile
Soon came upon a crocodile
Whose improprieties lay steeped in lore.
The wily reptile would beguile
An out-of-towner with a smile
Belying a betrayal at its core.
Dear friend, I wish to welcome you!
How was the road from Timbuktu?
Come near that I may hear what news you bear…
In truth, the beast had had its fill
Of horns and hooves and ibis bills
And thus, resolved to seek more tender fare.
The wayfarer, now curious
Despite all signs injurious
Would take the bait, not wishing to be rude
Recounting tales of spitting snakes
Of feuding sheikhs and salted lakes
And bartering with Bedouins for food.
Then we must feast! the creature cried
If you will let me be your guide
We’ll cross to where the spoils are most exotic.
It’s just offshore, a pleasant ride
Do climb aboard and sit astride!
And voyage with me into the aquatic.
To eat one friend is impolite
To eat two speaks of appetite
To eat them all may lead to the odd question.
But be it large or small amounts
To some it’s what’s inside that counts
A thought our croc is currently digesting.
Ever go upstairs and not remember why you did?
Or take the groceries out the car but then forget the kid?
Ever open up the fridge and find the teapot in it?
Forget to play the lottery then curse when others win it?
Lose your keys? Kill the grass? Return home to check the gas?
Fail to find your car though it’s right next to where you are
So then you verbally abuse it while more shoppers watch you lose it
Now if you were on the booze it might excuse it…
(let’s defuse it)
Scientists would say your frontal lobe is disengaged.
You won’t remember that, so write this down: you’re middle-aged
I don’t remember what I wore
Or who sat next to me
I don’t remember who cried more
And who came just to see
I don’t remember hymns they played
The readings that were read
Or why he paused before he said
That you weren’t really dead
I just remember how you looked
When you slept next to me
The Sunday dinners that you cooked
And how you sipped your tea
Those corny jokes you always told
Which rarely made me laugh
How next to you I looked so old
In every photograph
I don’t remember telling you
To leave me all alone
I don’t remember telling you
I’d be fine on my own
I don’t remember
The figure on the mountain knew
Far higher than the eagle flew
Beyond the sun and past the light
Were men who crossed the sky by night.
Soon after dusk their fires appeared
Then slowly, once a course was steered
Their caravan set out en masse
To make its empyreal pass.
Like beasts migrating on the plains
Like swarms that form to greet the rains
He found no word for the amount
Of travelers he sought to count.
A gallery would pass him by
Whose outlines seemed to signify
Proud emblems of a noble clan
Led by an even a greater man.
The bearing, always east to west
Suggested they were on a quest
Or maybe searching for a door
They’d passed through in a time before.
Each night the figure danced and prayed
Around the fire he had made
In hope his kin might see its glow
And teach him all he wished to know.
Then with the last beat from his breast
Great Spirit granted this request
And drew his outline in the sky
That men as he should never die
I brush your hair and talk of things
You still remember
The torch that lit the songs we’d sing
Now just an ember
I pour the tea
You study me
And wonder why
I still come by.
I dig out photos of the boys
More reminiscing
Now in a house devoid of noise
Each night you listen
A vigil kept
While fear has crept
Into a mind
That’s been confined.
Sinatra’s on the radio
And works his magic
This world which you no longer know
At once, less tragic
It was our song
You hum along
Then understand
And take my hand
The great white’s famous for its size
So when you see its dorsal
It shouldn’t come as a surprise
You may be its next morsel
Don’t try to swim or duck and dive
From Carcharodon carcharias
It views each move to stay alive
As utterly hilarious
But be aware some do swim by
For quite another reason…
Just hope you never catch its eye
During the mating season
Beware the Ides! foretells the fall
Of he who rose to conquer Gaul
And lands still further from his home
This warrior, this son of Rome.
On his return to claim his right
A haruspex with second sight
Met Caesar by the Senate arch
To warn him of the Ides of March.
They’d killed an ox and found no spleen
An omen that could only mean
The Consul should fear for his life
As did, Calpurnia, his wife.
But Caesar didn’t fear the gods
For he had overcome the odds
To overshadow mortal men
And take his seat in Rome again.
So came the day, but nothing passed
Until the Senators amassed
Fulfilling what was prophesied
Thus, on the fifteenth, Caesar died.
Of every haruspex, it’s said
They earn their living from the dead
And though they claim the role of seer
It’s often what we overhear
But somewhere, somehow Judas turned
And walked away from all he’d learned
So, when the two men dipped their bread
They both knew one would soon be dead.
We’re not sure how it came to this
Why he betrayed him with a kiss
To bring about the earthly end
Of someone he had called a friend.
Arrested, tortured, hung to die
While soldiers laughed and women cried
His friend collected his reward
And hoped the cause had been restored.
But this betrayal had a price
Which cost poor Judas paradise
He lost his friends then lost all hope
And wound up swinging from a rope.
Where is he now? God only knows
Good people pray for his repose
In hope our own friends keep us close
At those times when we need them most
Mr Ormsby At Large 