The Home on the Hill
The darkness of the starless night
Removed three figures from the sight
Of sentinels beneath the ground;
They hid there, waiting for a sound
Of movement through the blackened land,
For reasons none would understand.
They did not stir, they did not see
Or hear the figures; carefully
The three companions crept on by
Through grassland leading low and high,
Passed darkened windmills they would tread:
No chance of moonlight overhead.
Despite their silent movement they
Would not dare venture here by day.
Although the dark way was perverse
The light’s exposure would be worse:
As, quiet as the three could be,
The watcher in the sky would see.
They did not use the childhood names
From times when here they once played games,
From when the singer bounced her ball
When joyously her friends she’d call,
Each playing with their precious toys –
But now they would not make a noise.
At last, they saw the place they sought.
They’d reached there without being caught:
The singer with her yellow head,
The bagman glancing round with dread,
The drinker with his hat on, still
They reached the home upon the hill.
The doors were locked. To get inside
They vowed they would not be denied.
They clambered up the sloping wall
As once they did when they were small
And used the entrance on the crown
And slid and slid ‘til they were down.
With lamp held low and out of sight
They chose to risk a beam of light,
To search the house for they had heard
That an abduction had occurred,
That their dear friend had been brought here –
Then they saw something there, quite near.
A body lay there, was it dead?
Awash in scarlet, foot to head,
But no – some breathing, slow and deep.
‘Twas Po! And she was fast asleep.
They gently shook her ‘til she woke.
She said “Eh-oh” and then she spoke.
“Oh, Tinky-winky, my dear friend,
“And Laa-Laa, Dipsy: I commend
You for your courage coming here.
You’ve put yourselves at risk, I fear.”
At that, a snuffling made them quake.
Their doom – – the Noo-noo was awake.