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J Hill

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We built up our homes on the side of a hill.

There were 17 then, there are 12 of us still.

The butcher is a farmer. The law runs the still.

There are three here that govern, and one is named Phill.

Louise is the sitter and the baker of sweets.

Nate is a tinker and a said to be thief.

The hunter has perished though his gun his son keeps.

and me I'm the writer and the comic relief.

By now you must wonder "I've counted just 8!"

For four more, please be patient, and in other words, wait.

When the wind hits the winter, this slope keeps us safe.

If we keep in dry tender and indulge in some faith.

Or so I believed until this very day,

the account I shall journal, and you'll read if you may.

The morning came slowly but the whore was awake,

and the doctor came calling with new pills to take.

No charge for the service, no fee for the call.

Just the usual dark business and normally, that's all.

If not for the banker, for you see, he found love

even greater than money and his horder above

And while creeping away in the shadows of dawn,

encountered the doctor on the harlot's front lawn.

I thought I heard something, but I fell back asleep.

Now the doctor is dying and all of us grieve.

While the judge, she says something about how to believe.

But the holy man has long passed putting us in a pinch,

and the wanderer veered missing us by an inch.

So as dusk and then darkness befall on Nuham

11 minds start to worry on an elevated land.

@2009 jdh

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I love stories like this! I had to read it three times and I still don't think I caught it all. But I will re-read it again until I'm satisfied. But it's well put together, it kept my interest, the rhyming worked, the storyline was intriguing... Well done!

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