Me and Mr. Jones

The damn bleakest night you’d ‘ere want to see
The wet, scurvy wind blew in off the sea
From far fathoms down, a man creature marched
Full-covered in slime from kepi to arch.
 
He clumped past the bait house, up past the pub
One leg near normal, the other more club
Too tame a notion to just call him odd
The ground quaked in fear with each heavy trod.
 
He strong-reeked of death and death smelled no worse
Of thousands of ships now watery hearse
Of leagues to the deep and sailors their keep
Of voyages lost and long-plundered sleep.
 
Alone with the spaniel, none too aware
Until a damp chill moved fast through the air
From out on the porch there came a great roar
Dread shook my hands as my feet took the floor.
 
I opened the door, just barely a crack
But a lobster-like claw fastened my back
“Ahoy to ye mate and to that cocker
I’s Davey Jones and ye has me locker.”
 
The look of old Jonesy was no little fright
Hair strung with seaweed, his skin sickly white
Bent like Poseidon had twisted the rack.
The teeth that he owned were rotten and black.
 
Octopi clung to his shoulders and neck
Ribs heaved apart like a long-sunken wreck
And stink, oh that stench, I’ll never let go
My nose twitched in anguish, pleading a blow.
 
But I heard some coin jingle and as it did
There in his pocket – another five squid
Greed skewered fear and I pondered my play
Naught ventured, naught gained and chance was my way.
 
 
 
Says I, “Have a seat,” though I don’t know from where
Which prompted from Jones an unearthly stare
“I’s not here for tea lad, I wants what ye took
And I’ll have it tonight, ye plank-walkin’ crook.”
 
“Now Davey” says I, continuing bold
“My boat guards your locker, safe in the hold
It weren’t by intent it landed with me
My net brought it up, but now it ain’t free.”
 
Has ‘ere been a time you’d take back your words?
That one was mine but he’d already heard
The dog gave his papers, less a best friend
While I swallowed hard and waited the end.
 
Eyes flashed in anger, he fluttered a gill
My house, to my horror, started to fill
Higher still higher, the salt water rose
The dog took to paddle, I to my toes.
 
“I’s Davey Jones and ye well knows that name
Knows just as plainly that ye has no claim
I catch ye again out draggin’ me floor
Ye’ll comes to me then and comes here no more.”
 
“Avast Jones” I yelled, from the top of the stove
“Draw back the water, we’ll take to the cove.”
Bluster had fled me, not quite the talker
Near drowned by old Davey, spurned by the cocker.
 
Trodden and sodden, I lived on that day
No more to the deep, marooned in the bay
Long gone are the nets, long gone is the rig
I pull by myself, one hook to a jig.
 
 
Copyright:   Paul Heno May 2012
 
 
 
 
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