|The Devil's Song
Crazed by grief and desire
and sticking his hand in the fire
- or was it ice? - he got frostbite:
the devil is beating his wife tonight.
Please I don't think I can go on;
I was somewhere else until the dawn -
still there was an expanse and there was light
and I wasn't beating my wife last night.
Be forewarned: people will talk,
I said to the devil during our walk
but out of mind, gossips are out of sight
and I'll neglect beating my wife tonight.
But now I am going through a mood swing,
I feel restless, like having a go at a fling;
this panic attack is giving me a fright
so I'm back to beating my wife tonight.
I'll walk home in the drizzle, lonely and tired
but stop off at a cafe, I'm too wired
and all I can do is what I'm good at - not what's right:
my nature is beating my wife tonight.
If you have any comments on this poem, David Francis would be
pleased to hear them.