The Harlequin And The Half-Moon Rampsman Strike An Agreement

Over ‘broken bones and bruises’ be it
… spit on ye palm,
here’s me hand, here’s me heart,
let’s seal it, and nail this bastard down.
I’ll come at ‘im from a side alley,
all cosh, chiv and outrageous fury
… whilst you wall-creep,
and do that drop-from-nowhere thingy
… that you’ve become infamous for.
Molly’ll shut his doting dolly-birds up
… for three-favours-owed…
yet, they’ll witness our endeavours
which will pox-spread the Underworld
… that’ll heighten reputations nicely.
I want his left ear and pocket watch…
you can do what you bloody-well want
with the rest of the bleeder… only,
I’m sure it ain’t his money yer after
… but, that be all your business, mate.
We’ll sort the gutter-urchins gin
for each half-hour they work the street
watching for his swaggering approach
… and I’ll be dragging ‘im
off his feet, and the main thoroughfare,
straight after the first stunning blow
… so we can clobber and dice
with little-to-no spectators a-gawping.
When job’s done, you leave me alone,
we’ve no friendship outta working
… ye can nod respectfully from afar,
but, approach and I’ll respond nastily.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.