rusty broadspear (no login) from IP address 172.215.207.52
Joe Chick
When Joe Chick turns in his grave
It’s because the folk of Fessem Basset
Are not paying heed to what Joe said
Days before he was tucked into his earthy bed.
Joe Chick lived his 85 years as a loner, two miles out of Basset,
In a thatched cottage badly in need of a reed toupé.
He scraped a living selling weed and reptile potions
To cure local ill health and calm turmoiled emotions.
James Woolenough, Fessem Priest and Ann Selby, Home Help
And local gossip, both presided over Joe’s demise.
It was expected, indeed welcomed for Joe was very ill.
His concoctions were no help except to lay him very still.
Joe Chick hoarsley whispered through spraying spittle,
That beneath the stairs was a cure to all ills.
James and Ann placated the man with a Crucifix
And kind words – knowing he was last of the Chicks
Joe Chick wasted his final moments.
James and Ann were kissing under the stairs.
There were no potions or lotions
Only a broken Bible of a broken man. Devotions
When Joe had gone and James and Ann were one,
Ann glanced at a torn and weathered page.-
-It is more blessed to give than to receive.-
- Acts (ch. XX, v. 35)
Joe had scrawled – Believe, Believe, Believe.
Fessem Basset’s death rate, rose by eighty percent.
Old folk were farmed out to suburban homes.
Birth to Earth became commonplace. Illness rife.
James Woolenough now lives in Scotland with Ann his wife.
This message has been edited by WondersmithWest from IP address 70.73.42.21 on May 30, 2006 8:55 PM
