A Visit From Old King Hamlet

T'was just before guard change, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring - said Francisco: " not a mouse."

The swords were all hung by the portcullis with care

Just in case some barbarian invaders were there;

The rest of the court nestled, all snug in their beds

While visions of stuffed peacocks danced through their heads

And Barnardo in his helmet, Horatio and Marcellus in cloth caps

Had just settled their brains for a long, watch-night nap

When out on the battlements there arose such a clatter

They sprang from the guardroom to see what was the matter

Away to the battlements they flew like a flash

(First closing the portcullis and lowering the sash).

The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow

Gave the lustre of midday to objects below;

When what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a harrowing spectre – complete with standard ghost leer.

Wearing the old King's same armour – they'd swore the King had it

They knew in a moment it must be Old Hamlet.

More rapid than eagles the tortured screams came

And he whistled and moaned – calling demons by name:

Now Rosencrantz! Guildenstern! Laertes and Fortinbras!

Sweet Ophelia! Polonius! Cruel Gertrude and Claudius!

Then Old Hamlet rose eerily to the top of the wall

Crying "burn in hell, burn in hell, burn in hell, all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the battlements Old Hamlet flew,

With his gaunt, ghostly pallor and fearful leer, too.

And then, they heard suddenly, the clinking chain boot

That Old Hamlet brought down with a pound of his foot

Then he drew in his head and turned right around,

And down on the floor the brave soldiers fell with a bound.

He was dressed all in armour, from his head to his foot

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of arrows he had flung on his back

And he looked like the contents of an executioner's sack.

His eyes, how they smouldered, his wrinkles, not merry!

His cheeks gaunt as shadows caked with blood red as a berry.

His tortured, dry mouth was twisted up like a bow

And his beard (minus blood) was as white as the snow;

Ash and dirt were driven down deep in his teeth

And the ethereal aura circled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad kingly face and a proud, kingly belly

That shook when he wailed, like a bowl full of jelly.

But he was twisted and gaunt, a nightmarish, old elf

And the soldiers felt sorry – in spite of themselves

But with a roll of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave them to know that they had something to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work

Walked the battlements night long; then turned with a jerk

Giving one last long wail before the sun rose

And as usual, with cockcrow, Old Hamlet he goes.

Up sprang the brave soldiers, to their teams gave the whistle

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle

But they heard him exclaim, 'ere they ran out of sight:

"Tell Hamlet, Horatio, that I'll see him tonight!"