categories‎ > ‎poems‎ > ‎

The Ballad of Gregorian P.

posted 11 Oct 2009, 16:01 by Slippy Lane   [ updated 12 Oct 2009, 15:34 ]
The Ballad of Gregorian P.
(Originally written 1999. Tinkered by Slippy in 2008)

Come, sit alongside a while and I'll tell,
The tale of a man and a magical spell,
Of flower and faery, and cups of tea,
Heed you the ballad of Gregorian P.

Now, Gregorian P. was a man of some years,
Who would lean on his crutch, and was oft prone to tears,
Woodcutter by trade, he had not much wealth,
His hovel, wife and crutch, he had stuff-all else.

His wife, though once happy, was fed up, it seems,
With a diet of tree-roots, robbed cabbage, old beans;
With washing in rivers, three scrubs and a rinse,
So she up and took off with a smart Elfin Prince.

So our hero sat babbling by the babbling brook,
A-moanin' and a-wailin', he raged and he shook,
As he sat a-cryin', a-weepin' and blinking,
There, from behind him, what's that he heard tinkling?

"Who's that tinkling behind?" cried he,
"Tis I," said a faery, "Just little old me."
"Well please, leave me be," Gregorian coughed,
"Still here?" quipped our hero, "Go on, bugger off!"

"But I came to give you this thing," said the sprite,
"Into your dark, dreary world to shed light.
"Tis a fine magic jug, the best in the land,
"Here take it, please. Just hold out your hand."

So Gregorian P. his hand was out-held,
And there was the jug, the best in the world,
It came with a parchment, though what it decreed,
Our hero was clueless; He'd ne'er learned to read.

"Just ask," spoke a magical voice in the base,
"And all that you wish shall be yours with due haste,"
So he spoke to the jug - his tears, all but gone,
And wished for the things he'd wanted so long:

He called for his pipe and his fiddlers three,
and......Oops, wrong poem, how careless of me,
What he asked for was food, and lots more to boot,
To banish the taste of cabbage and root.

He asked for some ice-cream and plate-loads of jelly,
And while we're about it, a ginormous telly,
A new music system, with all-around sound,
Oh, and an Alsatian from the dog pound.

"I quite like the sound of a nubile young vixen,"
He said "with long hair, and a clean pair of knicks on,
"I want one that cooks, and won't disappear,
"With a smart Elfin Prince (Who I'm quite sure is queer)"

Gregorian P. got his every wish,
And much more besides, he'd no cause to bitch,
He'd no need to moan, his life was quite good,
But then, from the door, sounded hard fist on wood.

"Knock knock," said the door, and then "rat-a-tat,"
"All right, I'm coming. Stay where you're at."
Gregorian answered the door with a frown,
There was no-one to see, but then he looked down.

There stood a dwarf, hoary and old,
With a long, flowing beard and glasses of gold,
"My name is Thruppence, how do you do?"
"Quite well," said our hero, "and how about you?"

"Not bad," said the dwarf, "though I'd be much better,
"If you'd honoured this bill, which I sent with a letter,
"Twas for gifts from the jug, did you not get it?"
"Not sure," said our hero, "Perhaps the dog et it?"

"Whatever and maybe, sir, that's by-the-by,
"You'd best pay up, quick, lest I poke out yer eyes."
Gregorian P. collapsed in a faint,
When he saw what was owed - a small sum it ain't!

"Did you not read the contract? Did you not see,
"You'd be charged for each item, plus VAT?"
"No, I confess, I don't read too well,
"Or even at all, so send me to hell!"

"A faery gave me the jug, don't you know?
"She'd pressed it upon me, though I'd told her to go."
"A faery, you say? Ooh, that cheeky young cow!
"I sacked her last Thursday, so where is she now?"

"I'm here," cried the faery, "I'm ever so sorry,
"Should I take back these goods? I'll go get the lorry."
"You best had, young sprite, lest I give you a spank,
"And you sir, owe nothing, not to me nor the bank."

"Though I'll leave you the Vixen, which you have serviced well,
"And she'll soon need new batteries, which it seems I can sell,
"At a reasonable rate, I'm sure you'll agree,
"So if you're ever in need, I'm Thruppence, call on me."

Gregorian P. sat, gibbered and wept,
As the dwarf took the bed in which he had just slept,
He felt quite forsaken with everything gone,
A lonely old man, with naught but a song.

So the moral of the story is this:
If you're in debt to a dwarf, then don't take the piss,
He'll poke out your eyes, and leave you quite blind,
Oh, and don't trust a faery, tinkling behind.

Creative Commons License
The Ballad of Gregorian P. by Simon "Slippy" Lane is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.