Notes About The Poem

"It's a long one" . . . lol

Quasimodo's lost Mojo

Quassi; me old mucker, just how did you come into this world, with such an ugly face
Just then to be swapped by the gypsies who took Agnes the good looker in your place

Poor old Agnes’s mother, who took just one look at Quassi, fell into despair then fled
And thought dear little Agnes was more than dead, and as a meal to the gypsies fed

Poor old Quassi; was for some strange reason, exorcized before been sent on to Paris
In fear of the kin folk left behind; who they thought if he remained, would embarrass

Frollo the lustful adopted Quassi on account though not good looking was full of muscle
Sent Quassi on a task to see if the good looker Agnes now called Esme he could hustle

Quassi who had not exercised for a time; failed in his job to some tosser called Phoebus
Ended up returning empty handed, and now up for kidnapping, was more than grievous

Poor old Quassi; was sentenced to a day in the pillory, whilst spat at, and then mocked
It was dear Esme who showed him pity and gave Quassi some water, then was shocked,

When he in turn; he asked to kiss her hand, course Quassi had falling quite madly in love
But Quassi’s handsome good looks kinda of repulsed Esme, so she gave him the shove

As bringing curses by whom it was yet to be known, Esme’s very own long lost mother
Who in turn thought her long lost daughter Agnes had been stolen & eaten by others

Later on in the game Esme saw the old Captain Phoebus and his fiancée Fleur-de-lys
His piece of posh fluff that he wanted to marry, while Esme just as his little honey bee

Esme took real offence on hearing this news; and was just about to get up and leave
When didn’t Phoebus played his ace of a card hurt face and Esme returned to please

But little did they both know they were being spied on by, I don’t give up the cad Frollo
Who in a fit of jealous rage stabbed old Captain Phoebus, in the rumpus that followed

Dear poor Esme on the mere sight of blood; ended up on the floor, after she fainted
Didn’t know that as it so didn’t happen, the murder of Phoebus she would be tainted

Her delicate little dancing foot; was then threatened to be put into the crushing device
Aiding her to confess to something, which even to her, she knew was, not quite right

Even her most weirdest best friend of a goat was used as a witness against her in court
Although we know that after a few bags of rolled oats the darn goat, had been bought

Guess who turns up, but Frollo the lustful, who offers Esme, is it me, or the rope card
Esme angry with Frollo; even more so with me as a poet shouts out, you’re both bard

Quassi seizes his chance; as he sees the ever so swinging lynch rope start to get nearer
Takes Esme into Notre Dame; crying sanctuary, like we could not hear him any clearer

As nobody had any idea of what to do then, it was thought best, just let them both be
As Quassi got to know Esme; and, Esme got to know Quassi, all over a nice cup of tea

Esme, at last gives in and gave Quassi a kiss and in polite return he gave Esme his grizzle
Sorry; my mistake there; due to bad candle lighting, that was meant to read, his whistle

That; should she in time of need, whilst he is away, all she had to was give it a little blow
Flamin’ ‘eck this epic tale goes from bad to worse the further along with it, it seems to go

So . . .

Of the whistle it was just as well; as Frollo the lustful decides to make a call on dear Esme
Thinks Esme; it is that darn old git Frollo the lustful again, he is trying to overwhelm me

Grabbing the whistle that we’re the best of mates Quassi had gave her, she starts to blow
And with only seconds to spare of losing her knickers; didn’t poor Quassi, make his show

And in the darkness, he gave old Frollo the lustfull, a pretty good bashing, by all accounts
But; as the moon shone onto Frollo the lustful face; Quassi saw who it was and dismounts

His poor old dad; who had adopted him from his very own foundling bed at Notre Dame
Frollo who’s angered by it all shouts to Esme in frustration If I can’t have you, nobody can

Frollo the now not so lustful went off alone to play out his evil plan to kill Esme as his claim
Using Pierre Gringoire who Esme had saved from death, and had married, all but in name

Gringoire thought he knew the score; he called in the gypsies and tried to save Esme’s life
But poor old Quassie didn’t know anything of this, and they ended up in one hell of a fight

In the fray, Esme takes leave; and is about to run from Notre dame when met by two men
One is cloaked and the other is her husband in all but name Gringoire which both pretend

To offer Esme a safe passage out, who promptly faints on hearing her death chants thrown
When she awakens from this deathly pose to no other than Frollo whom she’s with all alone

Who now must be thinking third time lucky, asked Esme once again is it me or is it the rope
Which Esme despite her fear said; Look ‘ere sunshine, you just do not have a flamin’ hope

What could have been worse than bumping into your mother just as you’ve hit the gallow
When didn’t the old bat get whacked on the head by someone who threw a rotten marrow

Meanwhile; poor old Quassie was running round in circles, trying to find the one he loved
As poor dear Esme who was still swinging in her death throws, from the gallows up above
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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Cunningham Avatar
October 11, 2025 at 11:48 AM
Love this one Indiana, Im a lover of long poems. Hope you're keeping well. Greetings from the Canaries. Tom
Shaw Avatar
October 11, 2025 at 12:42 PM
Ello Tom, the Canaries, eh, long time since I've been there, I've got the heating on here . . . lol. Quassi is an old poem written years ago, but I thought I would give it a write up . . . lol
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