Poem 358
A song from the musical The Nightdress written by myself and Tim Finn … I wrote lyrics for the songs and Tim the music … the story is about the Road Hill House murder in 1860 in Wiltshire, England … 16 year old Constance Kent abducted her infant half-brother Saville from his crib in the middle of the night and killed him, ostensibly as an act of revenge against her stepmother Mary Pratt …
… thinking about the circumstances of the crime and the layout of the large house I realised Constance probably practiced it beforehand, perhaps many times … so this song sung by Constance shows her rehearsing, creeping less than silently around the sleeping household with its oblivious ten or more occupants, feeling a sense of power and relishing her special knowledge of what is to come …
( I like the complex rhyme schemes of the verses … and the glee and menace of Constance’s tone, made all the more creepy by watching her move amongst her sleeping family and finish poised by her stepmother’s bed … )
Dry Run
Old houses creak a dead language that they speak in the deep dead hours under bare feet old floorboards groan just the stretching of their bones or perhaps suggesting you are not alone Don't worry it's only a dry run I haven't settled on my plans don't worry it's only a dry run to test the lie of the land Road Hill House creaks sighs and fidgets in its sleep giving me away though I sneak stiff hinges fret for oil they won't get loose handles rattle tattle tale who is that? Don't worry it's only a dry run a chance for Constance to rehearse don't worry it's only a dry run to see how deeply sleeps the nurse Dry run a midnight peregrination dry run a dreamlike visitation and gone ... Don't tell me mercy falls like gentle rain if I'm a desert don't complain what I will rain is something different again and nothing good will grow from it no nothing good Each time I move I make music tongue and groove door latches window catches shriek a midnight tune this cacophony of sound you'd think would bring the house down instead like sheep they sleep as I creep round Don't worry it's only a dry run tonight I stay my hand don't worry it's only a dry run I haven't settled all my plans But when the wet run comes oh how wide your eyes exclaiming that this came from a clear blue sky you won't remember I won't forget that you lay deaf and dumb you stupidly slept through each and every one of my sly of my dry dry runs Sleep Mary Pratt sleep unaware don't dream that I'm beside you here determined to turn you into an insomniac