Selected Monologues and Poems

by Olive Sweetman

  It started some three years ago

  At twelve o’clock at night,

  He'd gone to bed and read a bit

  And then put out the light.

  He'd shut his eyes - and had a think,

  And then just dozing off,

  He heard a stealthy footstep,

  And next, a sort of cough.

  He wasn't really scared, he said,

  But when he looked he saw

  A ‘Thing' was stood on t'bedside mat.

  Well then Fred's hair stood up on end

  Just thought it was the cat,

  As we were soon to learn,

  His blood just froze inside his veins

  It gave him such a turn.

  And then he thought perhaps a pal

  Had dressed up for a joke,

  But suddenly the figure moved

  Right up to him, and spoke.

  "Frederick Percy Platt!" it said,

  "Your sins will find you out!"

  "My sins!" said Fred, "You're off your head,

  By 'ell lad, I've done nowt!"

  The figure gave a hollow laugh,

  "I'll haunt you every day"

  It whispered in a far-off voice

  And faded clean away.

  Well Freddy Platt was real upset,

  It wasn't very nice,

  He thought he'd visit t’doctor

  To seek medical advice.

  The doctor asked him if he'd had

  Cheese with his tea or such,

  Or was he overworking?

  Or had a drop too much?

  Fred told him none of these applied,

  And t'doctor scratched his head,

  "Well p'raps you've got a guilt complex."

  "Whatever's that?" said Fred.

  So t'doctor told him something

  Might be lurking in Fred's mind,

  They'd have to dig about a bit

  To see what they could find.

  "I pinched a sweet from Woolworths once"

  Said Fred, "They'd such a stack,

  D'ye think that Mr Woolworth's come

  To haunt me for it back?"

  The doctor gave him tablets,

  He'd to take them twice a day,

  Then Fred dropped in to give t’report

  On what he'd had to say.

  And when we'd heard Fred's story

  At once we volunteered

  To sit up every night with him

  To see if t'ghost appeared.

  We crowded in Fred's tiny room

  And sat and quaked with fear,

  When midnight struck, Fred said to us

  "Now just be quiet! It's here!"

  We heard him talk to summat

  But what, we couldn't see ,

  Said Fred, "It looks like no-one else

  Can see it, only me!"

  Well, news of Fred was broadcast

  And he rose to local fame

  With his picture in the papers

  He was soon a household name.

  He even went on telly,

  Looking ever such a swell,

  And very good he was an' all

  He answered up so well.

  The interviewer asked him

  If the ghost was with him there,

  "Oh aye," said Fred, "It's here alright,

  It's sitting on yon chair!"

  Then next he got a letter

  From a widow, Lily Grubb,

  She'd a tidy bit o' money

  And a busy little pub.

  She'd seen him on the telly

  And was interested in Fred,

  And she'd rather like to meet him

  With a view to getting wed.

  So he visited the widow -

  And they hit it off just grand,

  And less than ten days later

  He had asked her for her hand.

  Well, Fred and Lily prospered

  And were happy as could be.

  They even had a baby-

  And they called it after me.

  I asked him just the other day

  "Does t'ghost still haunt you Fred?"

  He laughed and slowly winked his eye

  And this is what he said:

  "I only saw that ghost the once

  But quite enjoyed the fuss

  I'd like to shake it by the hand

  For what it's done for us.

  I'll never know what caused it

  But I'm sure beyond a doubt,

  It's a grand life, while I'm waiting

  For me sins to find me out!"

  **********

  Rosie's Rescue

  Do you like family stories? I really hope you do -

  I'd like to tell you this one, and it's absolutely true.

  The rights and wrongs don't matter now, so if you'd like to know

  I'll tell you just what happened to our family, years ago!

  Our Rose was getting married, (she's the eldest one of us),

  You'd never dream a wedding could cause such a lot of fuss.

  We couldn't stand the chap she'd picked - so la-di-da and grand,

  And what our Rosie saw in him, we couldn't understand.

  The fellow we all favoured was her childhood sweetheart Pete,

  He'd always loved our Rosie, and lived just across the street.

  But when this posh bloke came along, so flashy and so smart,

  Our Rose she wouldn't look at Pete - it nearly broke his heart.

  Our Mum would make a pot of tea, to try to cheer him up,

  While Rosie and old fancy -pants would dine and dance and sup.

  And soon, we heard the news that she was marrying this bloke,

  He said his name was Ambrose, for a start off, that's a joke!

  Our Rosie called him 'Ambie', and we never let her know,

  We called him 'Namby-Pamby' - and Dad - ‘That so -and-so.'

  He kidded Rose she'd be a proper lady when they wed,

  But as for us, we didn't trust a single word he said.

  Mum asked him who he'd like to be invited for the day

  He said he much regretted that his people were away,

  His friends were all abroad, he said or else right out of touch,

  Would 'good old Peter' be Best Man? (Pete didn't like that much).

  But when our Rosie asked him, all shiny-eyed and gay,

  The big soft thing just melted, and agreed to, right away!

  We girls were to be Bridesmaids- though we loathed the very thought!

  We didn't like our dresses or the hats that Rosie bought.

  We argued and we squabbled, till Dad wished he wasn't born,

  It made me mad to see our happy home so sadly torn,

  I hated Namby-Pamby! Then I had a sudden thought-

  If he really was a phoney, -well then, couldn't he be caught?

  And pondering, I watched his face, as secret as a mask,

  It's seldom that a Bridegroom hasn't anyone to ask.

  I called a family conference (that's except for Mum and Dad)

  And we made a plan to watch him, in whatever time we had.

  We knew he lodged not far away, and in no time at all,

  We'd spied his room - and also found the safest time to call!

  And then quite unsuspected, we broke in the house one night,

  And searched his room and papers - oh we knew it wasn't right!

  But all is fair in love and war, this war was to the knife

  And suddenly we found the clue that changed our Rosie's life.

  A cutting from a paper carried Namby-Pamby's face,

  With a long police description of a fairly recent case.

  There was robbery with violence, and it then went on to tell,

  Of how he was a con-man and a bigamist as well.

  So that lot cooked old Ambie's goose, I'm very glad to say,

  The strong arm of the law went into action right away.

  And though our Rosie cried a bit, she had the faithful P
ete,

  And just to see him look at her was really very sweet.

  Quite soon the two were married, and they came to live next door,

  And all of us were happier than we'd ever been before.

  Pete said he'd always love us for the way we'd saved our Rose,

  But then - to have a family's always useful I suppose,

  We're still in touch though scattered, and we meet up when we can,

  To toast the happy ending to the story we began.

  **********

  The Sad Saga of Annie Fat and Sally Tall

  Me Dad 'e used to tell a tale – and now I tell it still

  Of when 'e lived in Lancashire and worked at t'local mill.

  'Twas when 'e were a youngster - no bigger than a sprat

  And spinnin' yarns or summat ( 'e were always good at that ).

  Now lots of lasses worked there, though pay were very small

  And mostly they all looked alike, in standard clogs and shawl.

  But two of them were different - so quite outstanding that

  One were nicknamed 'Sally Tall', the other 'Annie Fat'.

  Annie - as 'er name implied, were very big and plump

  She'd arms and legs like bolsters- and were large in t'chest and rump.

  While Sally were the opposite, so thin she looked a fright

  So tall, 'er legs just 'ung on t'floor when she lay in bed at night.

  Now Sal and Ann were friendly- they got on well enough

  Until there came to work at mill a lad called Billy Tuff.

  'E wasn't much to look at- quite little come to that,

  But summat he'd about 'im just appealed to Annie Fat.

  Well that were fair, 'e didn’t care or bother much at all

  Till what appealed to Annie Fat - knocked endways, Sally Tall.

  So then alas for Billy Tuff, although 'e were a trier

  When 'e wern't in t;frying pan- ‘e were frizzling in t'fire.

  Annie 'ad a nasty trick of lying round in wait

  Of lurkin' in the weaving shed- and pouncin'at t'mill gate.

  She'd 'ug 'im and she'd squeeze 'im- and 'e said it wern't no joke,

  Bein' ‘ugged and squeezed by Annie Fat - he'd lose 'is breath and choke.

  While Annie's rival Sally- she wasn't bein' outdone

  On long thin legs she'd chase 'im - and she kept 'im on the run.

  He'd belt down t'street like lightening, but it were never fair

  For Sal were like a damn big dog - and Bill a little hare.

  So life became a nightmare for poor old Billy Tuff

  Of dodging one or t'other he'd soon 'ad quite enough

  Until one day, Fat Ann and Sal discovered that he'd fled

  And none knew were he'd run to - to London some folks said.

  And though they searched both high and low, yet not a trace they found

  For Billy Tuff, he'd shook em off and really gone to ground.

  Now sorrow takes folks different ways - and that's a fact that's true

  And Annie Fat and Sally Tall, they took it different too.

  Sally took to eating - by gum she et all right.

  She'd stuff and gollop all the day- and sometimes half the night.

  While Annie Fat who'd loved 'er food, when she began to fret

  She just went clean right off it - and almost never et.

  They'd tempt her with their fish and chips, and tripe and trotters too

  It didn't make no difference- Fat Ann they couldn't woo.

  So matters went for twelve whole months - and at the end of that

  Their names 'ad changed to - yes, you've guessed - Thin Ann and Sally Fat.

  **********

  The Last Performance

  Last Christmas, us Thespians put on a play,

  It was held at the old Village Hall.

  (I'm really not much of an actor -

  But I'm better than no one at all.)

  We had such a row when we started

  For nobody seemed to agree

  On what sort of play we were doing

  (Though it just didn't matter to me!)

  But Beryl, oh- she's Leading Lady

  And she's got big ideas in her head

  Announced it was Shakespeare or nothing!

  'Cos she'd leave - at least that's what she said.

  And Doug - semi-pro and producer

  And likes to be thought of as tough

  He said she could go - and good riddance!

  And it just couldn't be soon enough 1

  Then Gerald the Matinee Idol

  With a gesture beloved by his fans

  Said that arguments brought on his migraine -

  And then posed - with his head in his hands.

  But Elsie who plays all the Comic Relief

  Thought a comedy went down the best

  And she'd just seen a scream of a picture

  Where the bridegroom turned up in his vest.

  And Shirley who's billed as the Juvenile Lead

  (All of forty - and that's for a cert),

  Said she'd just seen that film at the Tiv -

  And it wasn't his vest - but his shirt!

  While Reggie, who plays the detective

  When it's Agatha Christie or that -

  Said a thriller was just what was needed,

  'By whom'? Beryl asked - (she's a cat!)

  And Maisie - who's never played more than the maid

  Said that 'Quiet Weekend' would be nice,

  And Shirley sarcastically told her

  That they'd ask when they needed advice.

  Then Henry, who's always the Policeman

  And who isn't renowned for his tact,

  Said their heads should be all banged together

  And he'd guarantee Hall would be packed!

  And then she announced that she’d written a play

  With parts for us all - so she said,

  And a journalist friend that she'd known for a bit

  Thought it quite the best thing that he'd read!

  The script was passed round to be studied -

  And opinions were varied and mixed,

  But the ones who saw nice juicy parts for themselves

  Rushed the verdict - and so it was fixed.

  The cast and the date were decided upon

  And we practiced as never before.

  I can't say I understood my lines at all

  As the plot was - well, rather obscure!

  However, rehearsals continued apace

  And Christmas seemed horribly near.

  Shirley developed a cold in the nose -

  And Duggie , a pain in the ear!

  Came the day of the big dress rehearsal

  And nothing - but nothing - went right.

  But true to the Theatre's tradition, we said

  That all would be well on the night!

 

  The chairs in the hall were set out with a will,

  And the vicar had written his speech -

  Half dead with fatigue and excitement

  We felt the West End within reach!

  At last the night of the show had arrived

  -So had we - to be made up and dressed,

  And Dougie was curt with most of the cast -

  And horribly rude to the rest!

  The curtain arose with a horrible screech

  -Then fell with a sickening lurch.

  Seems the Vicar had borrowed a part of the works

  To fix something wrong in the church!

  To follow this not very promising start

  Beryl caught her long dress in the door -

  And Henry, who rushed to the rescue, tripped up

  And they both landed flat on the floor!

  This stopped Reggie from making his entrance,

  So he came through the window instead,

  But it wasn't intended for any such thing

  And the frame fell down over his head!

  And then – in his love sc
ene with Shirley

  When he kissed her with passion and grace

  Found the moustache he’d painted on carefully

  Had rubbed off – all over her face!

  When he next went to point his revolver

  Found they'd made a mistake in the shop

  And instead of it firing a deafening report

  Out fell just a small flag that read 'Pop'

  The audience were all in hysterics

  And disaster stared us in the face

  Then Doug in the wings, lost his temper

  And called us a Bloody Disgrace!

  Then he hurriedly brought down the curtain -

  But forgot it was now insecure,

  And it gave up the ghost and completely collapsed

  On us all - in a heap on the floor!

  And that was the last of the Thespians plays,

  The cast were somehow, never keen

  To start up again with another -

  Despite the applause there had been!

  Thus ended the Thespians story

  And you may think it all rather tall,

  But I'll tell you that no one will ever forget

  That last night - at the old Village Hall!

  ************ END OF BOOK ************

  Text copyright Olive Sweetman, 2014. All rights reserved.

  Line drawings copyright Vicki Trowler, 2014. All rights reserved.

  Photograph copyright Ken Sweetman, 2014. All rights reserved.

  Cover design based on photovisi.com template.