A Bag Of Spuds And A Swede (part 2)

 

 

 

A Bag Of Spuds And A Swede (part 2)

 

It was a moonless night, as he fell out the Feathers

Frost peppered the air like glitter

He took tentative steps, on pissed-up legs

As he entered the night-time.. so bitter

 

So cold that a dog got froze to a lamppost

A dusting of frost smeared the path

Which crunched and crackled beneath his feet

As he trudged home… to face Annie’s wrath

 

“She wain’t be too happy” he told himsen

“When she finds out I’ve blown all mi wedge”

Wi’ now’t to show, but a slur and a stagger

And a measly bag of old veg

 

He turned up his collar, to shield out some cold

As he wavered his weary way back

And he grasped hard his meagre veggies

With a firm handgrip wrapped round the sack

 

He trudged on into that cold night

Reassured by the sound of his tread

The crunch and the crackle of frost underfoot

As he made his way home, and to bed

 

Just then…. on the edge of his periphery

He saw a shadow.. that looked like himsen

But long and thin, in a way that he weren’t

So he greeted his shadow “Nah then”

 

“By…. You’re a handsome shadow” .. He said

“Has tha’ come out to see me home right”

“Come on then.. we’ll walk home together”

And they both trudged on into the night

 

So that was it then.. just him and his shadow

The only true friend that he’d med

The only one that wouldn’t forsake him

So he turned to his shadow and said

 

“Aye up shadow, It’s nice meet thi”

“We’ll face Annie together” he laughed

And they both staggered on, with no sense between ‘em

Both of ‘em equally daft

 

Then again…. on the edge of his periphery

He saw a second shadow there

But this one was somehow more sinister

And popped up from outa nowhere

 

A second shadow he thought

Is it someone sneaking about

So he listened out for the crunch of his footsteps

And was worried when he heard nowt

 

What other conclusion would anyone draw?

In that place… where muggings were rife

So he braved it out, and spoke out with bluster

Though he actually feared for his life

 

“If its mi money tha wants, tha’s too late It’s all gone”

“If it’s a scrap that tha’s after…  no fear”

“But be gentle, I’m tender and bruise like an apple”

“And fall down when I’m tanked up on beer”

 

But if truth be known, there was no-one else there

He was all on his tod that cold night

And though it appeared he wasn’t alone

It was simply a trick of the light

 

Because there was two lampposts there

The second shadow was also his own

Two lights cast two shadows from one body  

As anyone else woulda have know

 

As the shadows came closer together

He looked at ‘em with a mad glint

There was one that was his, and he knew it was his

And one that was his, but he din’t

 

He looked as the two shadows met one another

And was convinced one was that of a mugger

He thought, I’ll hit him with mi spuds and mi swede

That’ll show the bugger

 

He swung round with his bag-full of veggies

And struck out… hitting thin air

Then he pirouetted a couple of times

Because there was nobody there

 

He stopped spinning after two and half turns

But his bag stopped after four

It wrapped round his neck, hit him int’ nuts

And skittled him onto the floor

 

He landed in a big heap

As he tripped up on his own clumsy feet

The empty bag wrapped round his neck

As his veggies spilled out down the street

 

As he laid there a tangled mess of self-pity

His hand began to bleed

He was skint and alone and dejected

Without even a spud or a swede

 

Not a penny in his pocket

And a family of nine to feed

And nowt to show for a day on the lash

Not even a spud or a swede

 

 

◄ A Bag Of Spuds And A Swede (part 1)

Comments

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kJ Walker

Fri 11th Oct 2019 17:42

Thanks Keith and John.
I was a bit worried about posting this one, in case no-one knew what it was that I was trying to say.
Keith, do you mind if I turn the story of your grandfather into a poem. I'll do it sympetheticly.

John, I'm glad you enjoyed my delivery. I set myself up for a fall with some of the tongue twisters, and was glad not to fall flat on my arse.

Thanks for looking in.
Cheers Kevin

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John Coopey

Fri 11th Oct 2019 00:05

Got back home to look this up, Kev. Masterful story telling. And the delivery tonight was superb.

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keith jeffries

Wed 9th Oct 2019 21:47

Kevin,

You paint a humorous landscape with this poem. You never fail us. I particularly like the line "so cold that the dog froze to a lamppost. My father once told a story of his father who was so drunk he was found lying on the pavement clinging onto the kerb edge shouting, Help me, I´m going to fall"

Another great poem
Thanks indeed

Keith

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