It started some three years ago
At twelve o’clock at night,
He'd gone to bed and read a bit
And then put out the light.
He'd shut his eyes - and had a think,
And then just dozing off,
He heard a stealthy footstep,
And next, a sort of cough.
He wasn't really scared, he said,
But when he looked he saw
A ‘Thing' was stood on t'bedside mat.
Well then Fred's hair stood up on end
Just thought it was the cat,
As we were soon to learn,
His blood just froze inside his veins
It gave him such a turn.
And then he thought perhaps a pal
Had dressed up for a joke,
But suddenly the figure moved
Right up to him, and spoke.
"Frederick Percy Platt!" it said,
"Your sins will find you out!"
"My sins!" said Fred, "You're off your head,
By 'ell lad, I've done nowt!"
The figure gave a hollow laugh,
"I'll haunt you every day"
It whispered in a far-off voice
And faded clean away.
Well Freddy Platt was real upset,
It wasn't very nice,
He thought he'd visit t’doctor
To seek medical advice.
The doctor asked him if he'd had
Cheese with his tea or such,
Or was he overworking?
Or had a drop too much?
Fred told him none of these applied,
And t'doctor scratched his head,
"Well p'raps you've got a guilt complex."
"Whatever's that?" said Fred.
So t'doctor told him something
Might be lurking in Fred's mind,
They'd have to dig about a bit
To see what they could find.
"I pinched a sweet from Woolworths once"
Said Fred, "They'd such a stack,
D'ye think that Mr Woolworth's come
To haunt me for it back?"
The doctor gave him tablets,
He'd to take them twice a day,
Then Fred dropped in to give t’report
On what he'd had to say.
And when we'd heard Fred's story
At once we volunteered
To sit up every night with him
To see if t'ghost appeared.
We crowded in Fred's tiny room
And sat and quaked with fear,
When midnight struck, Fred said to us
"Now just be quiet! It's here!"
We heard him talk to summat
But what, we couldn't see ,
Said Fred, "It looks like no-one else
Can see it, only me!"
Well, news of Fred was broadcast
And he rose to local fame
With his picture in the papers
He was soon a household name.
He even went on telly,
Looking ever such a swell,
And very good he was an' all
He answered up so well.
The interviewer asked him
If the ghost was with him there,
"Oh aye," said Fred, "It's here alright,
It's sitting on yon chair!"
Then next he got a letter
From a widow, Lily Grubb,
She'd a tidy bit o' money
And a busy little pub.
She'd seen him on the telly
And was interested in Fred,
And she'd rather like to meet him
With a view to getting wed.
So he visited the widow -
And they hit it off just grand,
And less than ten days later
He had asked her for her hand.
Well, Fred and Lily prospered
And were happy as could be.
They even had a baby-
And they called it after me.
I asked him just the other day
"Does t'ghost still haunt you Fred?"
He laughed and slowly winked his eye
And this is what he said:
"I only saw that ghost the once
But quite enjoyed the fuss
I'd like to shake it by the hand
For what it's done for us.
I'll never know what caused it
But I'm sure beyond a doubt,
It's a grand life, while I'm waiting
For me sins to find me out!"
**********
Rosie's Rescue
Do you like family stories? I really hope you do -
I'd like to tell you this one, and it's absolutely true.
The rights and wrongs don't matter now, so if you'd like to know
I'll tell you just what happened to our family, years ago!
Our Rose was getting married, (she's the eldest one of us),
You'd never dream a wedding could cause such a lot of fuss.
We couldn't stand the chap she'd picked - so la-di-da and grand,
And what our Rosie saw in him, we couldn't understand.
The fellow we all favoured was her childhood sweetheart Pete,
He'd always loved our Rosie, and lived just across the street.
But when this posh bloke came along, so flashy and so smart,
Our Rose she wouldn't look at Pete - it nearly broke his heart.
Our Mum would make a pot of tea, to try to cheer him up,
While Rosie and old fancy -pants would dine and dance and sup.
And soon, we heard the news that she was marrying this bloke,
He said his name was Ambrose, for a start off, that's a joke!
Our Rosie called him 'Ambie', and we never let her know,
We called him 'Namby-Pamby' - and Dad - ‘That so -and-so.'
He kidded Rose she'd be a proper lady when they wed,
But as for us, we didn't trust a single word he said.
Mum asked him who he'd like to be invited for the day
He said he much regretted that his people were away,
His friends were all abroad, he said or else right out of touch,
Would 'good old Peter' be Best Man? (Pete didn't like that much).
But when our Rosie asked him, all shiny-eyed and gay,
The big soft thing just melted, and agreed to, right away!
We girls were to be Bridesmaids- though we loathed the very thought!
We didn't like our dresses or the hats that Rosie bought.
We argued and we squabbled, till Dad wished he wasn't born,
It made me mad to see our happy home so sadly torn,
I hated Namby-Pamby! Then I had a sudden thought-
If he really was a phoney, -well then, couldn't he be caught?
And pondering, I watched his face, as secret as a mask,
It's seldom that a Bridegroom hasn't anyone to ask.
I called a family conference (that's except for Mum and Dad)
And we made a plan to watch him, in whatever time we had.
We knew he lodged not far away, and in no time at all,
We'd spied his room - and also found the safest time to call!
And then quite unsuspected, we broke in the house one night,
And searched his room and papers - oh we knew it wasn't right!
But all is fair in love and war, this war was to the knife
And suddenly we found the clue that changed our Rosie's life.
A cutting from a paper carried Namby-Pamby's face,
With a long police description of a fairly recent case.
There was robbery with violence, and it then went on to tell,
Of how he was a con-man and a bigamist as well.
So that lot cooked old Ambie's goose, I'm very glad to say,
The strong arm of the law went into action right away.
And though our Rosie cried a bit, she had the faithful P
ete,
And just to see him look at her was really very sweet.
Quite soon the two were married, and they came to live next door,
And all of us were happier than we'd ever been before.
Pete said he'd always love us for the way we'd saved our Rose,
But then - to have a family's always useful I suppose,
We're still in touch though scattered, and we meet up when we can,
To toast the happy ending to the story we began.
**********
The Sad Saga of Annie Fat and Sally Tall
Me Dad 'e used to tell a tale – and now I tell it still
Of when 'e lived in Lancashire and worked at t'local mill.
'Twas when 'e were a youngster - no bigger than a sprat
And spinnin' yarns or summat ( 'e were always good at that ).
Now lots of lasses worked there, though pay were very small
And mostly they all looked alike, in standard clogs and shawl.
But two of them were different - so quite outstanding that
One were nicknamed 'Sally Tall', the other 'Annie Fat'.
Annie - as 'er name implied, were very big and plump
She'd arms and legs like bolsters- and were large in t'chest and rump.
While Sally were the opposite, so thin she looked a fright
So tall, 'er legs just 'ung on t'floor when she lay in bed at night.
Now Sal and Ann were friendly- they got on well enough
Until there came to work at mill a lad called Billy Tuff.
'E wasn't much to look at- quite little come to that,
But summat he'd about 'im just appealed to Annie Fat.
Well that were fair, 'e didn’t care or bother much at all
Till what appealed to Annie Fat - knocked endways, Sally Tall.
So then alas for Billy Tuff, although 'e were a trier
When 'e wern't in t;frying pan- ‘e were frizzling in t'fire.
Annie 'ad a nasty trick of lying round in wait
Of lurkin' in the weaving shed- and pouncin'at t'mill gate.
She'd 'ug 'im and she'd squeeze 'im- and 'e said it wern't no joke,
Bein' ‘ugged and squeezed by Annie Fat - he'd lose 'is breath and choke.
While Annie's rival Sally- she wasn't bein' outdone
On long thin legs she'd chase 'im - and she kept 'im on the run.
He'd belt down t'street like lightening, but it were never fair
For Sal were like a damn big dog - and Bill a little hare.
So life became a nightmare for poor old Billy Tuff
Of dodging one or t'other he'd soon 'ad quite enough
Until one day, Fat Ann and Sal discovered that he'd fled
And none knew were he'd run to - to London some folks said.
And though they searched both high and low, yet not a trace they found
For Billy Tuff, he'd shook em off and really gone to ground.
Now sorrow takes folks different ways - and that's a fact that's true
And Annie Fat and Sally Tall, they took it different too.
Sally took to eating - by gum she et all right.
She'd stuff and gollop all the day- and sometimes half the night.
While Annie Fat who'd loved 'er food, when she began to fret
She just went clean right off it - and almost never et.
They'd tempt her with their fish and chips, and tripe and trotters too
It didn't make no difference- Fat Ann they couldn't woo.
So matters went for twelve whole months - and at the end of that
Their names 'ad changed to - yes, you've guessed - Thin Ann and Sally Fat.
**********
The Last Performance
Last Christmas, us Thespians put on a play,
It was held at the old Village Hall.
(I'm really not much of an actor -
But I'm better than no one at all.)
We had such a row when we started
For nobody seemed to agree
On what sort of play we were doing
(Though it just didn't matter to me!)
But Beryl, oh- she's Leading Lady
And she's got big ideas in her head
Announced it was Shakespeare or nothing!
'Cos she'd leave - at least that's what she said.
And Doug - semi-pro and producer
And likes to be thought of as tough
He said she could go - and good riddance!
And it just couldn't be soon enough 1
Then Gerald the Matinee Idol
With a gesture beloved by his fans
Said that arguments brought on his migraine -
And then posed - with his head in his hands.
But Elsie who plays all the Comic Relief
Thought a comedy went down the best
And she'd just seen a scream of a picture
Where the bridegroom turned up in his vest.
And Shirley who's billed as the Juvenile Lead
(All of forty - and that's for a cert),
Said she'd just seen that film at the Tiv -
And it wasn't his vest - but his shirt!
While Reggie, who plays the detective
When it's Agatha Christie or that -
Said a thriller was just what was needed,
'By whom'? Beryl asked - (she's a cat!)
And Maisie - who's never played more than the maid
Said that 'Quiet Weekend' would be nice,
And Shirley sarcastically told her
That they'd ask when they needed advice.
Then Henry, who's always the Policeman
And who isn't renowned for his tact,
Said their heads should be all banged together
And he'd guarantee Hall would be packed!
And then she announced that she’d written a play
With parts for us all - so she said,
And a journalist friend that she'd known for a bit
Thought it quite the best thing that he'd read!
The script was passed round to be studied -
And opinions were varied and mixed,
But the ones who saw nice juicy parts for themselves
Rushed the verdict - and so it was fixed.
The cast and the date were decided upon
And we practiced as never before.
I can't say I understood my lines at all
As the plot was - well, rather obscure!
However, rehearsals continued apace
And Christmas seemed horribly near.
Shirley developed a cold in the nose -
And Duggie , a pain in the ear!
Came the day of the big dress rehearsal
And nothing - but nothing - went right.
But true to the Theatre's tradition, we said
That all would be well on the night!
The chairs in the hall were set out with a will,
And the vicar had written his speech -
Half dead with fatigue and excitement
We felt the West End within reach!
At last the night of the show had arrived
-So had we - to be made up and dressed,
And Dougie was curt with most of the cast -
And horribly rude to the rest!
The curtain arose with a horrible screech
-Then fell with a sickening lurch.
Seems the Vicar had borrowed a part of the works
To fix something wrong in the church!
To follow this not very promising start
Beryl caught her long dress in the door -
And Henry, who rushed to the rescue, tripped up
And they both landed flat on the floor!
This stopped Reggie from making his entrance,
So he came through the window instead,
But it wasn't intended for any such thing
And the frame fell down over his head!
And then – in his love sc
ene with Shirley
When he kissed her with passion and grace
Found the moustache he’d painted on carefully
Had rubbed off – all over her face!
When he next went to point his revolver
Found they'd made a mistake in the shop
And instead of it firing a deafening report
Out fell just a small flag that read 'Pop'
The audience were all in hysterics
And disaster stared us in the face
Then Doug in the wings, lost his temper
And called us a Bloody Disgrace!
Then he hurriedly brought down the curtain -
But forgot it was now insecure,
And it gave up the ghost and completely collapsed
On us all - in a heap on the floor!
And that was the last of the Thespians plays,
The cast were somehow, never keen
To start up again with another -
Despite the applause there had been!
Thus ended the Thespians story
And you may think it all rather tall,
But I'll tell you that no one will ever forget
That last night - at the old Village Hall!
************ END OF BOOK ************
Text copyright Olive Sweetman, 2014. All rights reserved.
Line drawings copyright Vicki Trowler, 2014. All rights reserved.
Photograph copyright Ken Sweetman, 2014. All rights reserved.
Cover design based on photovisi.com template.
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