A Long Winter’s Night 2016 – Day 4: Pickled Bollocks, a Tale of Hospitality
Posted By Randy on December 24, 2016
Pickled Bollocks
By LFM
To speak the sins deserving death
Calls not for but a single breath,
And of those few, that hated most
Falls hard on who betrays his host.
‘Twas in the dead of Winter’s grasp
My callused hand released the hasp
Upon my door near end of day
To find a man who’d lost his way.
I threw the portal open wide
And welcomed him to warm inside,
“My Wife’s goode beans are on the fire!
“Please, eat as much as you desire!”
And so he ate ’til he was filled,
His every offered tankard swilled,
‘Til warm and sated, nodding head,
He took my lead and went to bed.
My Wife is up before the sun
To start the things that must be done,
‘Twas in that dark before the dawn
She heard close by a quiet yawn.
Now turning ’round from kneading bread,
She spied our guest with tousled head,
And as she watched he helped himself
To goods upon our pantry shelf.
Some he ate and some he piled,
Then noticing my Wife he smiled.
“You must be keen to go,” she said,
“Pray, sit thee down, I’ll get you fed!”
A different hunger moved him then,
My Goode Wife recognized the yen,
He moved to block the kitchen door,
Then sought a taste of something more.
Within the barn I heard the scream,
A cry from Hell to curdle cream,
I knew no man could voice such sound
Who’d not felt bite of blade or hound.
Those twenty paces barn to dwelling,
Seemed as leagues if truth be telling,
‘Til bursting in I spied the spoor
Of blood upon the kitchen floor.
And o’er the stain my Wife did stand,
Her keen and bloody knife in hand,
Her eyes flicked down, then back at me,
From fruits of gelding clear to see.
I grabbed her then and kissed her well,
And vowed to send our guest to Hell,
We kissed again as donning pack,
I took my rifle from its rack.
The snow was fresh, his trail was clear,
As such will make who flees in fear.
For half the day I rode him hard,
To drive him to his final yard.
I’d taken higher ground to see
Him stagger by to right of me,
‘Til cold and tired he sought to hide
Where vision’s gifts might be denied.
Beneath a stand of Fir and Pine
He traced his staggered tottered line,
To reach at last my westward fen,
And, as expected, stopped just then.
I watched his breathe drift on the breeze,
And couched in comfort, took my ease,
My rifle stock snugged into place,
Resolved to end the sorry chase.
My sights upon his panting gusts,
No longer fueled by carnal lusts,
I watched them drift in fine detail,
Then fired a shot across his tail.
And as predicted, up he got,
Believing I had missed my shot,
And charged ten yards across fen,
Before my rifle spoke again.
His arms thrown up, his head bent low,
He fell headlong upon the snow
That rose and settled on the scene
To lie as though he’d never been.
I could have stopped there. I mean, the bastard’s dead, isn’t he? Just go down there, touch his eye with a twig to check for a blink, and cut his throat for good measure, right? Well, you’ve come to the wrong place for happy endings. I just couldn’t let things lie, as it were.
My rifle sights remained unmoved,
The purpose of my quest unproved,
When came a sound upon the breeze,
As clear as any cough or sneeze.
My Goode Wife’s beans bring gas to he
Who fails to drink her special tea,
So he who skips it in the night
Should drink it ere he goes to flight.
So, whaler on a frozen sea,
An arsehole’s breath awaiting me,
Barely breathing, nothing stirred,
Another loud report is heard!
I smiling brought my sights to bear
Upon the puff still drifting there,
A little right, a bit more low,
I squeezed … and let my vengeance go!
My Wife and I now have an inn,
For guests who never stray to sin,
We’ve all the beans that you desire,
And pickled bollocks by the fire.
Been a bit since I checked in, enjoyed this one quite a lot. I recently read the trial of the “EMINAUD murder” from 1791 in Lunenburg (on line). Pickled Bollocks initially put me in mind of the story, yours of course, has a much more satisfying outcome!
Keep up the great work, I do enjoy reading LFM when I have the opportunity.
I do still expect a signed copy when published in hard copy
All the best for 2017
Martin M
Always a delight to see your return Martin, however long a time may stand between drinks.