TIM DERBY’S MATCHBOX

(A foretaste of horrors to come)

The sad man called Derby walked out in the rain

From the peak of his hat to the soles of his feet

He was wet and he murmured again and again

It’s the curse of the matchbox I found in the street

The gay Persian matchbox I took to my flat

To add to the others I keep in my drawer

Oh who would have thought an old matchbox like that

Could cause all this sorrow and fretful furore?

The sea smote the prom and the wind howled with vigour

And Derby returned to his garret in gloom

And he looked at the box and he knew it was bigger

It filled nearly half of his green living-room

So Derby took fright and he called for a cleric

To come and say things that a cleric must say

And a clergyman came with a plumber called Derek

And made certain signs as he knelt down to pray

Dear Lord make us free of this monstrous matchbox

Cause it to vanish away in the night

But the spells that he spoke were as spots on a snatchbox

No fun at all and a terrible sight

So Tim in despair took a leap through the casement

Like Father Merrim had done in the flick[25]

And he lay very dead down below in the basement

The vicar just smiled and said, ‘That’s done the trick.’

EPILOGUE

The Rev and the plumber returned to the rectory

And guzzled away at a bottle of rum

And Del tore in half an old telephone directory

While good vicar Norman played taps on a drum.

Comment: It must be understood that a cleric is under considerable mental and physical stress when performing exorcisms upon devil-possessed matchboxes, tea trolleys, golf carts, etc., and after a successful exorcism it’s always nice to relax with a glass or two of rum, a telephone directory, a pair of bongos and a consenting plumber.