Walpurgisnacht Poem by David Lewis Paget

I had met Hans down in Frankfurt
At the rebuilt Opera House,
We were there to hear Mendelssohn,
Not really my first choice,
‘I would rather come for Bach, ' I said,
His face lit in delight,
‘Ah, but this is special too, my friend,
Die erste Walpurgisnacht! '

He was not a man of many words,
But music thrilled his soul,
He began to talk, to lecture me
On classics, new and old,
I confessed I was not learned in these,
My education poor,
‘But then, you must come visit me, '
He told me, at the door.

He lived in the Harz Mountains
Up on Brocken, in the north,
Where the spirits of Old Germany
Come out, and venture forth,
A half-timbered, medieval house
I found, with gargoyles pale
Set round the edges of the eaves;
The village was called Thale.

The door creaked as he opened it,
On hinges, rusted brown,
He barely smiled as I went in,
In fact, I think he frowned,
Perhaps he had forgotten that
He'd said to come that day,
In April, on the thirtieth,
What for, I couldn't say.

He led me through a passageway
That lay in quiet gloom,
With wooden arches, shelves of books
That led into a room,
The furniture was old and worn
The carpet drab and grey,
And there a wind-up gramophone
Sat proudly, in a bay.

And round about were piles and piles
Of those old 78's,
The ones that our grandfathers played
Through evenings, until late,
‘There is no power to this house, '
He said, ‘we just make do,
With lanterns, as our fathers did
Since 1642.'

He placed a record down to spin
And cranked the old machine,
But crackling through its ancient horn
The music seemed obscene,
It leapt and plunged, and screeched and roared
As I sat there, in fright,
‘You'll recognise the theme, ' he said,
It is Walpurgis Night! '

The sun sank down the mountain
As we ventured in the mist,
To where the bonfire burned that night
And witches danced, in bliss.
The villagers were out in force
All dressed in witches hats,
They waved their brooms out in the gloom
And trailed what looked like bats.

The jaegermeister flowed that night
And schnapps and apfelwein,
By midnight everyone was drunk
I stuck to beer and wine,
A girl dressed like a witch was brought
Manhandled though the crowd,
Her hands were tied, and Hans had sighed,
And stood, with his head bowed.

They thrust the girl into the fire
She only screamed but twice,
Hans turned to me, ‘Walpurgis Night
Demands a sacrifice! '
I stood there with my mouth agape,
‘That girl was not a witch! '
‘Our Saint Walpurga needed her,
Our only choice was… Which? '

I turned away, I felt quite sick,
And stared down in the mist,
A phantom that seemed far away
Stared back, I thought ‘Desist! '
It grew to a tremendous size
A head of coloured beams,
‘If that is Saint Walpurga, Hans,
You tell her, she's obscene! '

I don't know how I found my car,
I staggered down the mount,
I found so many dead ends there
Far more than I could count,
I knew I had to get away
My face was grey and pale,
I'll not return Walpurgis Night
To any place called Thale!

30 December 2012