Frank E Gibbard Posted May 20, 2009 Share Posted May 20, 2009 Dickens plunged readers in the blood chilling, Cathartic icy moment of hot blooded killing; Nancy’s murderer we know is on the loose, A step or two ahead of a hangman’s noose. Sikes possessed a dog he often kicked and hit, A cussed beast that fought him back and bit; Bullseye bolted off and quit his brutal boss, Nasty Bill so cruel to him will come to rue his loss. Meanwhile Oliver’s true past is now revealed, A crucial fact of his birth was long concealed; The father who sired him was a gentleman Whose other son, by his wife, has a secret plan. A male sibling has tried to find Oliver for years, Scared to lose his estate and fraught with fears That he may have to share great expectation; Pre-soap operas this rivals them in complication. Oliver’s step-brother and Fagin were in league, But Mr Brownlow cottoned on to their intrigue; He got this man called Monks to spill the beans, Brownlow resolved to save Oliver by any means. On Nancy’s death the Law was hot on Sykes’ trail, The populace too who thought him beyond the pale; A crowd whipped up to a fury follow Bullseye’s tail, And in a frenzied melee close in on the fleeing male. The story of Oliver Twist a mix of grief and pleasure, Writ in shades light and dark in fairly equal measure; Novels like real life have scenes to bury or to treasure, Heightened for dramatic effect, lightened to reassure. This story dear reader in short has nearly reached a peak, Please read on if conclusion or closure you should seek; So far Agnes his mother died and Nancy is no more, Oliver is still at risk of Fagin should he beset his door. A local bull terrier known as Bullseye face deep in a leather boot, Bill Sikes, shaking the stricken leg, crying : “Off you bloody brute!” On a London street below if privy to a high town pigeon’s eye, Clattering pell-mell over cobbles a rabid mob mid hue and cry. The locals have followed the lead to the quarry right up to his lair, Fatefully the dumb creature summoned the impromptu posse there. Up up went the collective growl: “There he is, it’s Nancy’s killer!" A backwards scowl and Sikes was gone. It’s de rigueur in a thriller. Now a hullabaloo, where’s he gone? Who knew? Has he got away? But Sikes emerged, the large throng surged, above all saw the prey. On a warehouse roof, none needed proof, a guilty man was perched, A cowardly cur, all might aver, they each would have gladly birched. The foul fiend leaned, towards a hoist careened, an overreaching grope, With a desperate lunge, Sikes took the plunge and fouled upon a rope; His neck was strung up by chord normally hung up for baskets of fruit, Just dessert folks said, with this villain dead, hanging did certainly suit. ..... to be continued (nearly finished, if still with me thanks, Frank) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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