Some say he lived in squalor
Inside an ancient and decrepid
Old wooden barn, tucked just off
A narrow road that ran
Between the village - where once
He had enjoyed wealth, fame,
Plus a lot of prestige too -
And a town two miles away.


The barn served as his home.
Gone were the famed trappings
Of a worthy, if idiosyncratic,
Tall, stocky, and bearded headmaster.
And unseen from the road; around the back,
Through dust encrusted windows
You were able to set eyes upon
His old black Rolls Royce, settled
Comfortably down on deflated tyres.
Like a sinking ship it lay
With the flotsum and jetsam
Of many a schoolboy's participation
In his famed private choir school.

I saw its bonnet peaking through
A thick coating of old copy-books
Bills, Invoices, newspapers and
Other items not sacrificed
When the bailifs came and closed
Him down... that last time... for good.

He hadn't answered my knocking.
And in astonishment I investigated
His abode whist filled with a growing
Sense of pity for a fellow man
Who had somehow fallen down to this.

My second visit found him at home,
And we spoke man to man outside,
So I never saw inside this 'home'.
Clearly he felt some shame of this
Situation I now found him in.
My pity well overcame my memory
Of 'twenty strokes' he gave to me
For something I was innocent of,
And of the dissappearance
Of my parcels of 'tuck' sent from home.
Now I'd grown into a compassionate man
With the power to show some clemency.
I vowed the next time I called
I'd first stop at a supermarket
To buy a bag of groceries that
I could leave outside his flimsy door
As an anonymous benefactor's gift.


Third visit: I wondered if I had taken
The wrong road, for there was no sign
Of the wooden barn, none at all!
Mystified, I drove on to the nearest
House where I asked the  'posh' lady
Who answered the door, 'Where is the barn?'
"Oh," she said, "You mean Old Man Frohawk...
He died and his family from down South
Came and cleared out his belongings.
After that the farmer burned the barn
To the ground. Well it was rotting away."

The bag of groceries accompanied me
On a very solicitous journey home.


© Griffonner 2024