The Devil On The Tree Poem by David Lewis Paget

It was coming on up to Christmas
When I received an unusual text,
‘We're travelling round the country and
We thought we'd visit you next.'
It was signed Giselle, the cousin from Hell,
And I shook right down to my boots,
For ‘we' meant daughter Annabelle Leigh
With a reputation to suit.

I think she was sired by a Demon down
In the Seventh Circle of Hell,
She'd never been smacked, not even a tap
When she'd scream, and shout and yell,
Her mother was one of those wussy types
Who'd studied psychology,
Was into behaviour models, rather
Than putting her over her knee.

They came with their bag and baggage, said
They'd only be here for a month,
And Annabelle Leigh went on a spree
Spitting all over our lunch,
‘Now don't be naughty, ' her mother said,
‘Or you'll make your uncle mad! '
‘I hate him! ' she said, looking at me,
‘You tell him he's not my Dad! '

I thought, ‘Thank God for that! ' there are
Small mercies in this world,
And one, not being the father of
This hateful, spiteful girl,
She turned my home to a charnel house
When she cauterised the cat,
Burning the fur of my Burmese with
A basin of scalding fat.

I asked if ever she'd sought the help
Of a child psychologist,
Giselle just sat and she simpered, ‘Oh,
She's never as bad as this!
You must have done something to worry her,
Keep calm, and try to be nice.'
But I was too busy to answer, while
Packing the cat in ice.

‘Children need to feel valued, ' said
Giselle, one day to me,
But I was stood by the window
Watching her kid ring-bark my tree,
She cut off the neighbour's pony-tail
As she lay asleep on the deck,
My hands were jerking in spasms as
I thought of them round her neck.

At Christmas-time out shopping she
Demanded the best of dolls,
Would scream, and fill up the shopping cart
With fairies, dwarfs and trolls,
But when it was too expensive and
Giselle said, ‘Put it back! '
She'd lie on the floor and hold her breath
‘Til her face was almost black.

On Christmas Eve, I trimmed the tree
At about the midnight hour,
As I wrapped the various packages, I
Could feel her in my power,
She wouldn't forget this Christmas was
The promise I made to me,
For two could play at the naughty game
She'd find out, Annabelle Leigh!

I took the fairy from the top
Of the tree that it had graced,
Unwrapped the special surprise I'd bought
And put it in her place,
A large black rubber devil with
Red eyes and a pair of horns,
And a tongue that sprung from its evil face
For a foot and a half or more.

I'd coated the tongue with Rapid-fix
That instant stick cement,
And added the smell of rotting flesh
And Burmese excrement,
At dawn, when Annabelle Leigh came down
She looked for the fluffy dog,
But when she opened the parcel it
Was just my exploding frog!

The frog was coated in treacle that
Was stuck to her hands and hair,
She got out a single scream before
Her mother came running there,
The spring released on the devil that
Came leaping out of the tree,
Its tongue flew out, and stuck to the lip
Of that darling, Annabelle Leigh.

She stared in the big black devil's eyes
As it hung, and bounced from her lip,
The eyes popped out and revolved as well,
Giselle came out, and flipped,
I doubt they'll ever dropp in on me
Again, they left in a whirl,
Annabelle sees a psychiatrist,
A well behaved little girl!

23 November 2012