The Back Lane Murder Poem by David Lewis Paget

The Back Lane Murder



Elizabeth Warr was the woman next door,
They called her a witch and a hag,
We lived in a lane that was called ‘Little Payne'
Though what there was lived in her bag,
She carried a hammer, a sharp bladed knife
A corkscrew and two leather twists,
The corkscrew she carried for putting out eyes,
The leather for binding of wrists.

She'd been more than sane up until the back lane
Had revealed that her daughter was courting,
Who'd never told anyone who she had met
Till they found her the following morning,
But she had been ravaged, her body was savaged
Her skirt was pulled over her head,
And blood ran in rivulets down to her ankles
Elizabeth's daughter was dead.

And that's when she swore that revenge would be hers
As she haunted the back lanes and alleys,
Carting the murderous tools in her bag
And noting who dillies and dallies,
‘He'll try it again, and I will be there, '
She announced to her friends and her neighbours,
‘They always return to the scene of the crime
And the place of their murderous labours.'

The months had gone by with barely a sign
He'd ever come back to the midden,
With no-one attacked, he hadn't looked back
So guessing the culprit, forbidden.
But then on a line in the communal yard
A scarf fluttered high on the line,
Elizabeth saw it and reached out and caught it
And muttered, ‘I know that, it's mine! '

Her daughter had borrowed that scarf for one night
The night that she'd thought to go courting,
And then in the horror, the fear and the fright
The scarf wasn't there in the morning.
Elizabeth watched who collected the scarf
The mother of Alan John Sidden,
Then carried her bag to the rear of the park
While she waited for dark, to be hidden.

They say there were screams and loud howls in the dark
On that night in the early September,
And smoke in the trees that would waft in the breeze
Along with some foul smelling embers,
When Sidden was found, what was left, on the ground
In the morning, his throat cut, it's true,
They said that his eyes were a gruesome surprise
They'd been taken by some sort of screw.

12 September 2016

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David Lewis Paget

David Lewis Paget

Nottingham, England/live in Australia
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