Goblin Castle

‘Why do they call it Goblin Castle?’

I asked my friend, Carstairs,

We sat, gazed up at the battlements,

‘It’s a hell of a way up there!’

I knew that the Lord and Lady Crane

Had been living there, forever,

‘It used the be called the Castle Bleak,

But Goblin Castle... Never!’

 

He bit his lip and dismounted, and

We tethered the horses fast,

Went to sit by a hollow tree

And squatted, sat on the grass.

Carstairs had worked for the Cranes for years

So he knew the ins and outs,

Of every tittle and tattle there

In that massive, noble house.

 

‘It happened just when the Lady Crane

Was only a maid in there,

Before the Lord had taken a shine,

And offered his hand to her.

Her name was Jenny de Quincey

From some distant, noble blood,

But all she had was the noble name,

Her folks were as poor as mud.’

 

‘There were places there that she shouldn’t be,

There were places that were barred,

The servants said that its history

Was more than battle-scarred.

They whispered rumours of little folk

Who had roamed about in the past,

Had stolen goblets and golden plate

But they’d all died out, at last.’

 

‘She ventured down to the dungeons, where

They’d kept the local churls,

Back in the days of taxes, that

Were paid to the Lords and Earls.

She expected to find them empty, but

Then further along the hall,

She found a dwarf, just two foot four

Who’d long been chained to the wall.’

 

‘The dwarf had a sickly pallor that

Looked green in that eerie light,

A monstrous forehead and bulging eyes,

And he gave the maid a fright.

He said he’d been chained a hundred years,

That he came from a local tribe,

‘Of Goblins, Hobs, and Gnomes,’ he sobbed,

But the rest had not survived.’

 

‘Jenny was wearing a golden chain

That he came to the bars to see,

For goblins love the glitter of gold,

Are rabid for jewellery.

He snatched the chain and he backed away,

Clutched it against the wall,

‘You’ll have to bring the key to the cage,’

He said, and she was appalled.’

 

‘She brought the key the following day

And opened the rusted gate,

She didn’t know quite how strong he was

But she found out, all too late!

It wasn’t only the glitter of gold

That the goblin had in mind,

But to draw a veil on part of the tale,

I think would be more than kind.’

 

‘She luckily married the Lord that week

So it wasn’t a total mess,

She started to show, that womanly glow

And the Lord had thought him blessed.

But the truth came out when the heir was born

With a face that glowed pale green,

With bulging forehead and flapping ears,

And the biggest eyes I’ve seen.’

 

‘They keep him down in the dungeon, in

A cage, right next to his Pa,

While she’s locked up in the tower room,

Has never got out, so far.

It used to be called the Castle Bleak

And it lived right up to its name,

But now it’s called the Goblin Castle

Of Lord and Lady Crane.’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Marie]

Those goblins are sneaky little creatures, aren't they. She should have known better. Golden chains can be replaced, and there's a reason to keep goblins locked up.

I see you've written another ballad, which I haven't gotten around to. If you manage to write one every day, you'll be finished with your next thousand in less than three years. Then you can start on your third thousand...

[Avinash]

What a twist in tale rather a twisted tale. Have met many human goblins and I can tell they are meanest in their design. They know they can compensate through crookedness what nature has taken away from them.

[Valentine]

This makes a clever tale for people to tell their children just before Halloween. Scare the heck out of them..A chuckle a day from you might keep my drearies away. Thanks Mate...Kathie

[MomzillaNC]

Cuckolded by a Goblin! Another amazing tale! You could have been one of those roving minstrels with stories like this!

[Barbz]

Ooh, 100 years in the dungeon didn't dull his senses...or dry him up and kill his little swimmers. I wonder how many maids and such the goblins caused their glimmers. In days of old, and still today, it's not just gold that glitters. Beware, my dear of little men with greenish skin that give your eyes the jitters......Mr. Paget, I love to read you, for you take me along to a place once unfamiliar......and sometimes Not!! Barbz

[TPK Stories]

Keep up the great work...always a pleasure to read your tales.....

[R Smith]

haha that's a brilliant poem and a fantastic story, you could probably write fantasy novels and parables with such ease, just remarkable David :)