Ethel La Neve Poem by jackilton peachum

ETHEL La NEVE
Cal., Nusing Home,1968)

Ah, ah— yes, I was asleep, wasn't I? —
But I'm awake now, Nurse— yes, I'm awake!
Why, I must've been dreamin'— just a dream—
Big waves a'breakin' over starboard-side,
White sea-birds cryin' up there in th' mist—
And Captain Kendall's standin' right up there—
Lookin' down on us from the upper deck!
An afternoon— the air is very cold
— one of our last undivided moments—
We're both in disguise— such a foolish effort-
I'm dressed as a young boy, trousers and coat,
and Hawley's shaved off his big moustache
— he's travelin' [hout his spectacles—
he an' I out walkin' ‘mongst the life-boats,
he's taken my hand in his— to ease, to comfit—
I was frightened, you see, young and frightened—
And all the while— Kendall's watchin' us close!
Is that you, Hawley? Is it really you?
No, of course not— its only the night wind
Testin' the edges of th' window-blind,
Sighin' a little as it slips into this dark room!
A dreadful thing— yes, I miscarried his child!
And Cora— oh, she was a horrible woman!
There was real love ‘tween us two— lastin' love—
Not the brief passin' passion of strangers—
Though there was ‘nough of passion too!
Well, we've all of us secrets, an't we?
Bein' human-- an' creatures of desire--
Aye, but mine's a dark an' dreadful secret!
I pray my children never learn th' truth—
And poor ol' Stanley Smith— he never guessed!
‘course, we were happy 'nough— but the marriage—
Well, for me— only a convenience-
My heart, was always pinin'off elsewhere!
But stay— bear with with me another minute—
I'm an old woman— I know I'll die soon!
I've a favor — an' no one else t' ask!
In the desk there— over there— a photo—
That drawer on the left— now-- bring it here!
Look, see— the features— almost faded out—
But I trace my fingers over— like so—
I see his face again like yesterday—
Though more than fifty oddsome years have passed!
My real name— truth told— is Ethel La Neve!
And you've never heard of me I s'pose?
Long ago that name was notorious!
— they crucified both of us in the press!
Hawley Harvey Crippin— the murderer!
Yes, that Doctor Crippen— one and the same—
I was his lover— an' his accomplice!
For which I have not a single regret—
Well, perhaps one-and only one— we were caught!
That night— the light's dim in th' kitchen—
Cora's body's a-lyin on the floor,
Large and white— naked— life's gone out of her,
Poison's made an ugly mask of her face—
The bottle of hyoscine in the sink,
Henbane— stink of it— awful-smelling stuff—!
Did I see that? Or maybe I dreamt it?
And did he commit the murder for me?
Well, such a thing an't unheard of, is it?
Ha! She always bullied him, belittled—
Blamed him for her failures— 'er dreadful life!
She wanted to sing in the music halls—
Oh, Cora— you haven't got th' talent!
(— her sex appetites never t' be slaked!)
Soon enough, Inspector Dew comes to call.
An' we runs to Brussels on the ferry—
Hawley went to the deck— dropped somethin' in—
A large brown cloth bag— red stains all over it!
Then the boat t' Canada— a new life—
But Marconi's wireless has just come in—
Th' word went ahead— an' they were waitin'—
We were brought back to London for trial,
then Hawley confessed — t' spare me, he said,
Absolving me of all guilt or knowledge—
I've said I was frightened— and very young—
I let ‘im take the fall— for all of it!
A brief hearing— I am soon acquitted!
Pentonville Prison is a cold grey place
— damp crusted stones, thick-set heavy steel bars—
In his cell, I handed him a flower,
Which he somehow took with him to his grave!
Or so I was told— aye, so I was told—
A murderer's grave— in quicklime— no less!
So, you begin to see what I'm asking?
When I'm dead, you'll hide this picture with me
— ‘thout my family ever a'knowin'—
I mean to be buried with this picture!
Mind's eye, I see a figure in a hood,
A black hood— droppin' through the gallows trap-
Dear Lord, the noose is tightin' around my neck!
Oh, Hawley, Dear— I'm here— yes, I'm right here!