With a perfect cover drive.
He delivered Mrs Foster's fourth,
When Doc Gains fell down drunk.
(The doctor diagnosed himself:
‘I'm drunker than a skunk!’)
Then Captain Jim took care of him,
And tucked him in his bunk.
At Christmas, when a touring troupe
Arrived to do a show,
And the tenor caught a fever
And it was touch-and-go,
Who was it calmly took his place?
Well, I expect you know.
And so the seasons passed,
And the months became a year,
And he saved us from a cheetah,
And he bought us ginger beer,
And he taught us how to make our own…
And when to interfere.
He said: the world's a puzzle,
A game of keys and locks;
A mirror in a mirror,
A box within a box;
And we must do the best we can
And stand up to the shocks.
He told us: that's the moral,
In a world without a plan,
In a world without a meaning,
Designed to puzzle man;
You must do your intervening
In the best way that you can.
Some said he was a writer,
And some, a diplomat;
A traveller, spy, geologist,
And various things like that.
We said he was a cricketer;
How else explain the bat?
‘You'd been on tour,’ said little Frank.
‘And scored a ton,’ said Joe.
‘And when the boat returned to home,’
Said I, ‘you didn't go.’
But when we asked him was it true,
He said, ‘Well… yes and no.’
And he built a bridge that summer,
And he made a mighty kite,
And he saved us from the axeman,
Who was ‘axing’ for a fight,
And he beat the Mayor at poker,
And he caught quail in the night.
He read the weeks-old papers,
And played the gramophone,
And climbed the hills above the town,
And watched the sky alone,
And taught the barber's daughter chess
(Who's now your Auntie Joan).
Then, one evening in September,
As we sat up on the pier,
With our mango-chutney sandwiches
And home-made ginger beer,
And our Steamboat Billy comics…
We saw him disappear.
In his suit of gleaming white
And his loaded-up canoe,
He passed quickly out of sight,
There was nothing we could do.
He had paid his bill at Macey's;
And he took the cockatoo.
Well, we shouted from the quayside
And we ran along the bank,
And scrambled in the mangroves,
Delayed by little Frank;
But he was gone for evermore,
And left behind… a blank.
Yet not quite a blank, perhaps,
For he did leave us a note
And some marbles (c/o Macey's),
And this is what he wrote:
‘Watch out for life's crocodiles,
And try to stay afloat.’
Why he came remained a mystery,
Why he left us, no one knows,
But his talents were amazing
(From his eyebrows to his toes!),
And though it's now all history,
Still his reputation grows:
The voice of Nelson Eddy,
The dash of Errol Flynn,
The brains of Albert Einstein,
The speed of Rin Tin Tin,
The cover drive of Bradman,
The pluck of Gunga Din.
That's how we have remembered,
As the years grow dim
And life slips slowly by
On the wide world's rim,
The man who matched them all:
And his name was Captain Jim.
Now little Frank is bigger,
And Bertie's married Joan,
And Joe's become an engineer
With ‘Wireless-Telephone’,
And I tell bedtime stories
To children of my own.
One final thing, before I go
(I heard your mother call);
A few years back, it must have been,
When you were both quite small,
I bought some cigarette cards
At the Monday Market Stall.
Woodbine's Famous Cricketers,
Fifty in the set;
They were faded, creased and dog-eared,
Badly stained with dust and sweat;
Yet there was a face among them
That I never could forget.
It was him all right, I'd swear it;
It was him without a doubt,
With his bat raised in a flourish
Letting go a mighty clout.
‘Captain James Fitz… (blur),’ it stated:
‘Four-forty-nine not out.’
The Girl who Doubled
* * *
This is the story
Of Alison Hubble,
Who went to bed single
And woke up double.
Woke up with a twin
In her single bed.
‘Who are you?’ ‘Who are you?’
She said, she said.
Then her dad came in.
‘Good grief! Ye gods!’
Mr Hubble declared,
As he gazed at the sight
Of Alison squared.
‘I can't believe it;
It's hardly fair;
One daughter's enough,
We don't need a pair!’
Then Mrs Hubble came in.
‘Oh Alison, Alison!’
Cried her mother.
‘You always said you wanted a brother.
‘I'm quite overcome.
Your gran'll go wild.
We don't expect this
From an only child.’
Later on, the doctor was sent for.
‘Hmm!’ said the doctor.
‘What have we here?
Whatever it is,
It's double, I fear.
‘If you've had it before,
Well, you've got it again.’
Then he felt in his pocket
And took out a pen,
And wrote a prescription
(But gave no advice),
Just some pills to be taken,
Twice daily – twice.
After he'd gone, Alison had a word (or two).
‘I want to get up!’
‘That goes for me!’
‘I'm hungry and thirsty!’
‘And bored!’ ‘I agree!’
So up she got
And washed her faces
(Leaving soap in the usual places).
Then: what to wear?
‘Yes, that's the trouble;
I'm in two minds,’ said Alison Hubble.
By and by Alison went to school, with a letter for the teacher.
Dear Mrs Mott (it said),
I thought I ought to write
A note about our Alison
Who doubled in the night.
Her father and I
Were powerless to prevent
What can only be described
As this singular event.
We're sorry indeed
To put you to this trouble,
Yours sincerely, Maureen Hubble.
P.S. Her extra dinner money is enclosed.
Well, at first it was fun –
Lots of laughs;
And a queue formed at play time
For her autographs.
She played hide-and-seek;
She skipped with he
r friends,
Did the ‘double whip’
And held both ends.
Presently, however, there was a spot of bother.
Her friends said, ‘But Alison,
Which one's really you?
Come on, we're flummoxed;
Give us a clue!’
‘Well, I'm me,’ said Alison.
And, ‘I'm me, too!’
‘No you're not – what rubbish!’
‘I'm more me than you!’
Then Alison gave herself a shove,
And another in reply;
And called herself names,
And made herself cry.
She turned to her pals
With the usual plea:
‘Don't be friends with her –
Be friends with me!’
Later, in the cloakroom, while the girls were getting changed for games, something else happened.
The cloakroom was crowded,
But got crowded even more,
When – all of a sudden –
There was Alison times four!
She had doubled again,
In seconds flat;
Like magical rabbits
From a conjuror's hat.
Her friends were delighted
And concerned for her fate.
‘Poor Alison!’ they sympathized.
And, ‘This is great!’
They argued in the hockey match
Which team she should be in.
‘With Alison in goal,
We'd be bound to win!’
Then it was home time.
When Alison came through the door
And kept on coming,
Her father put his glasses on
And starting drumming
With his fingers on the table;
And then he said, ‘Ye gods!
It was bad enough before.
Now we've got quads!’
‘That's true,’ said her mother;
‘I quite agree.
She's doing it on purpose,
If you ask me.
‘Is this all the thanks we get?
Do something, Ted!
Whatever will the neighbours say?’
Mrs Hubble said.
‘They‘ll put two and two together;
Still, they'll hardly say,’
Said Mr Hubble glumly,
‘That she's wasting away.’
Alison, for her part, defended herselves.
‘It's not my fault,’ she said.
‘Don't blame me!’
‘Blame her!’ ‘And her!’ simultaneously.
Then she went outside,
And upstairs, too;
And sat in the kitchen,
And sat on the loo;
Did the washing up
And some of the drying,
Ran into the garden
And knocked herself flying.
As he watched his daughter
Coming and going,
Eating and drinking, catching and throwing,
Mr Hubble announced,
‘I feel quite dizzy.
However can one child be so busy?’
Soon the phone started ringing,
And the doorbell, too;
It was Alison's friends,
Give or take a few
Who were friends of friends
Or friends' younger brothers:
Could Alison come out to play,
And could she bring… the others?
So Alison played for a while until tea time.
Then: ‘Cheese for me!’ she said.
‘I'd like ham!’
‘Boiled egg and salad, please!’
‘Bread and jam!’
And Mrs Hubble muttered
While she did her best,
‘I've somehow got the feeling
We've a cuckoo in the nest.’
At nine o'clock Alison went to bed.
Two of her slept in the spare room,
And two in her usual bed.
Two had a bedtime story;
Two read to herself instead.
She tip-toed on the landing,
Giving herself a scare,
As she whispered in the darkness:
‘Alison, you still there?’
And before she went to sleep,
Each one of her stared at the ceiling,
With a puzzled look on her face
And a curious quadruple feeling.
When morning came, Mrs Hubble
Called to her husband, ‘Ted!
Wake up, come on, go and count her.
I can't bear to look,’ she said.
So Alison's father arose
And peered anxiously in at each door.
‘There's two in here,’ he reported;
‘And two in here makes four.’
‘And two downstairs!’ cried Alison.
‘And two in the bath makes ten!’
(Maths wasn't her strongest subject.)
‘I think I've doubled again!’
Later, she had her breakfasts and her friends called for her.
Then, off to school went Alison (cloned),
Wearing most of the clothes
She had ever owned.
Well, a crowd was waiting
At the playground gate
With a noisy welcome:
‘Two – four – six – eight!’
A reporter was there
From the local press.
‘Who's Alison Hubble?’
And the crowd said, ‘Guess!’
The photographer with him
Lined Alison up
Like a football team
That had won the cup.
Eventually, Alison reached her classroom.
‘Alison Hubble?’ ‘Here, Miss!’
‘Here, Miss!’ ‘Here, Miss!’ ‘Hey!
Hang on there, whoa!’ said Mrs Mott.
‘We‘ll be here all day.’
Extra books were sent for;
Extra chairs and tables.
Said Mrs Mott (all muddled up),
‘What you girls need is labels!’
Meanwhile, the news was spreading,
And not too far away
Graffiti in the High Street
Said: ALISON RULES OK
When school ended, Alison came home to find her dad in his best suit.
And her mum, looking brave
With a cup of tea,
Being interviewed for the BBC
While the crowd in the street
Went, ‘Oooh!’ and ‘Aaah!’
‘Here's Alison et cetera.’
There were TV cameras,
A TV van,
Microphones, cables, and Alison's gran,
Who was complaining about the injustice of it all.
‘I can't understand it,
She's not a barbarian.
She goes to church –
She's a Unitarian!’
And Alison, too,
Had complaints of her own.
‘I'm fed up with crowds;
I want to be alone!’
She refused to be filmed
For the News at Ten,
Stamped up to her room…
And doubled again.
‘Oh, no!’ said her mum.
‘What a tragedy!
It'll take us two hours
To cook her tea.’
‘You're right,’ said her dad.
‘It's rotten luck.
We'll have to do the shopping
With a three-ton truck.’
Alison herself, however, cheered up when she saw the tent in the back garden.
Yes, out on the lawn
Stood a large bell tent
With sleeping bags, too,
Which the Council had lent.
‘Is that for me,
Or should I say us?’
And she let out a yell that was thunderous.
Yet even then
There were certain sna
gs,
When she doubled that night
And got stuck in the bags.
In case you've lost count, there were now thirty-two of her.
Well, Alison's fame
Continued to spread.
‘SHE'S ONE IN A MILLION’,
The papers said.
Mrs Thatcher dropped in
And (huskily) told her:
‘We do hope you'll vote for us,
When you're older.’
While a man in the dock,
In serious trouble,
Said: ‘Not me, m'lud –
It was Alison Hubble!’
Various professors and experts also took an interest in her.
They studied her tongues
And tapped her knees
And talked of split personalities.
‘It's something in the water!’
‘Something she ate!’
‘An act of God!’
‘The Russians!’ ‘Fate!’
And they wondered
Where the world was heading,
The Mighty Slide Page 2
