The Wandering Story Teller

Long long ago before buses and cars

And underground tubes and rockets to Mars,

Sam Grime was known as a teller of tales.

He had once been a sailor so the sound of sails

 Flapping and cracking as soon as he woke,

Were never far from his thoughts whenever he spoke.

Sam spent his days in cities and towns

His eyes were bright blue, his teeth were stained brown

Telling stories of his life for a penny a time

Often speaking in riddles and sometimes in rhyme

He walked to London where narrow alleyways

Were better places to stop than busy highways

Where men on great horses who rode with their wives

Carried their weapons like hammers and knives

To stop attacks by robbers and thieves.

Sam was worried these men would believe

He might try to rob them or was up to no good

So he kept away from where good townsfolk stood.

Lads who strolled past spat as they sneered

At his dirty stained coat and his untrimmed beard

Pointing at his shoes, where the soles were torn

After walking from Hampstead to High Holborn”

One day by a stone chair he started to whistle

Some folk ignored him but some stopped to listen

He spoke in a mix of rhymes and whistles

Sitting by flowers, weeds and thistles.

And when children stopped and asked him to sing

Sam, with his tales, felt like a king.

‘I know more words than in the thesaurus

So try to join in when I reach the chorus,’

His voice was deep like a rich  baritone

Echoing in a lane of  old cobblestones.

‘Oooh’,’ shouted the children when the song started

About sinking ships so not for the faint-hearted.

Then came another song the children heard

As he hummed and gently stroked his beard.

🎼 ‘I knew a pirate with one good eye

The other one was made of glass

And for a penny he would pass

The eye to every boy and lass

  So they would know what it was like

      To be hit in a fight by a pointed spike’ 🎼

Sam’s voice rose between the trees.

‘This is the chorus so sing it with me.

🎼 ‘Let the soft sea boil and roll

And the flying fish feel free

I see with my good eye 

   That’s good enough for me

To catch the fish to eat

As waves slip slowly past my feet’ 🎼

It’s a pirates sang and whatever the weather

The old sea shanty  bound them together

When they came ashore to rob the rich

Where some ended up drunk in a ditch

Before being taken and kept in a gaol

But if you were there you’d hear them wail.

🎼 ‘Let the soft sea boil and roll

And the flying fish feel free

I see with my good eye

That’s good enough for me

To catch the fish I eat

As waves slip slowly past my feet.’ 🎼

The children loved it and sang along

Clapping and stamping at each line of the song

And as they laughed, old folks joined in

Dropping odd pennies in Sam’s small tin.

So he could buy two slices of bread

And a tiny soap to wash his head.

But night-time came and with his shoes still worn

Sam went back to Hampstead from High Holborn.

Sam Grime lived to a great old age

He wrote his tales on a many a page

Hoping, when they grew up, children wouldn’t forget

That he had a good heart and didn’t regret

Being poor and always accepting pennies

So he could sing songs to fill their memories

And as time went by to remember his rhymes

That helped make their childhood happier times.