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The Troll At Speckle Bridge
There was a time throughout this land
when all was well and kind.
Where Wood Sprites, Fairies and Pixie dust
were not that hard to find.
But times have changed with the forest quiet
and the wee folk gone for good.
As darker times have vexed the town
and it lies just beyond the woods.
For you see there is a gruesome sight
that lives beyond the ridge.
A fearsome Troll named Dudley Moore
who controls the Speckle Bridge.
The townsfolk know they must pay the toll
for when they wish to cross.
And even though they have a mayor
they know that Dudley's Boss.
When forced to travel they have no choice
for it spans the only road.
And a fearsome Troll stands upon the bridge
and money they must show.
'Pay the toll,' screams Dudley Moore.
'A tuppence for your group.
Try to pass and shun my levy,
I'll boil your bones for soup.'
Rumors live in the minds of folks
of a man named Robert Bowl.
Who vowed to sneak across the bridge
to cheat Dudley of his toll.
When he left... the townsfolk cheered
to his future glory and fame.
But poor Robert's quest was not to be...
as he was never seen again.
Now Trolls are ugly beyond belief
with hair scored flaming red.
Dudley stood 40 palms and weight 30 stones
with feet the size of sleds.
His skin was course with bloodshot eyes
and breath like garlic wine.
His nose was huge and his teeth grotesque,
he smelled of putrid swine.
Dudley knew of the stories told...
of eating flesh until he burst.
And like most Trolls... only human blood
would satisfy his thirst.
It made him laugh to play a role
where he was hated and reviled.
But then a voice......... he turned around
and there stood a lonely child.
Now Sara Pound was at the bridge
and now began to cry.
For all the berries the girl needed
were growing on the other side.
Dudley was firm as the child wept,
his heart as black as coal.
'You will not pass as there are no exceptions.
All must pay the toll!'
The child sniffled then thought a bit,
feeling tense and dour.
She left the bridge and returned in haste
giving Dudley Moore a flower.
The Troll was shaken as he held the gift...
unsure how to proceed.
Then something changed... Oh, he thought.
It's my anger and my greed.
'Let us talk as I need your word
on a bargain that can't be beat.
I'll let you cross but you cannot tell
any townsfolk you may meet.'
So every day when the coast was clear,
with no one there to see.
Little Sara Pound would bring a flower
and cross the bridge for free.
She came at dawn with the sun ablaze,
he would watch her for a while.
And snickered what a funny thing
to have to wear a smile.
The world was harsh or so he thought
but he had finally found a cure.
A child's eyes and the faith within
with a spirit oh so pure.
She was picking berries near the river
when the Troll looked on in shock.
The little girl had got too close
and slipped upon a rock.
A raging current had swept her down
as the river was mean and wild.
Dudley jumped with a desperate need
to try and save the child.
He struggled hard as his arms grew tired,
their situation grim.
For all those years upon the bridge...
he had never learned to swim.
He kept a float as best he could
in a battle fraught with strife.
To save a girl who had changed his heart
and brought his soul to life.
He was tossed about but his only thought
to save the girl from harm.
And with one last breath he found poor Sara
and held her in his arms.
The townsfolk searched into the night
for the child Sara Pound.
They looked in vain for days on end
but nothing could be found.
Stories are told while at the shore...
she suffered an attack.
From a fearsome Troll who then disappeared
after one last senseless act.
The things we dread are sometimes not
as bad as they appear.
And knowing how love conquers all
should sway us off our fear.
So now in Heaven, the fearsome Troll
will no longer be apart.
From a little angel named Sara Pound
who had melted Dudley's heart.
The End
*Four palms is about one foot.
* A stone is about 14 pounds.
*For those interested. I will be showing my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage with a new one being posted every second day.
Copyright ©
David Mchattie
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