Mr. Parmer’s Promise

Parmer-Blog

 

by Nick Bridwell (Customer Service)

Writing as

Count Aloysius Darkheart, PhD

 

Mr. Parmer once made a promise to a rugged old farmer

that he’d marry the farmer’s daughter and wouldn’t harm her.

And if he did, he crossed his heart,

and swore he’d let the old man tear him apart.

 

The old man was kind and gave them the farm

with its tractors and scarecrows with overstuffed arms.

And the pitchforks and moo cows, those were theirs, too.

This couple was blessed with a nice thing or two.

 

Mr. Parmer and his brand new missus

lived happily for some time with no bad business.

And when at last they laid the old man to rest

Mr. Parmer reckoned he’d passed the man’s test.

 

But then on one cool autumn night

Mr. Parmer was given a feminine fright

when the doorbell rang and he beheld the sight

of a beautiful woman all dressed in white

 

It seemed on this evening she wanted a treat,

so he kissed her red lips and he massaged her feet.

And all while the missus was inside the abode

washing the dishes and cleaning the commode.

 

Off ran the Lady in White in a hurry

and oh how Mr. Parmer’s heart did flurry.

He’d gotten away with the briefest affair

and all on the porch of his marital lair.

 

All through the night his mind was astray.

When wife said goodnight, he pushed her away.

He cared not that he’d hurt his sweet bride’s feelings

as he imagined the White Lady’s face on the ceiling.

 

DING! When the clock struck midnight, he swore

that he’d heard a sweet ring of the doorbell once more.

So he left the bedroom quiet as a mouse

and gave not a single thought to his spouse.

 

But at the front door he found not a soul

no lady, no kisses, no foot rubs at all.

But off in the distance, near the barn, he spied

A bit of white fabric dart quickly inside.

 

He entered that barn where he’d seen her for sure

and found only hay, oats, and manure.

And up on the rafters, where farming things laid,

a pitchfork, a bandsaw, a sharpened axe blade.

 

Suddenly he thought of his poor wife inside.

His heart broke when he realized he’d lied,

and all for a kiss from a mysterious lady

who let him touch her feet without thinking him crazy.

 

And no sooner than his own thoughts were complete

than a phantom approached, floating with no feet.

It was that old farmer who’d trusted Mr. Parmer,

to take his daughter and never harm her.

 

“I’ve seen what you’ve done, you scoundrel, you rat.

And broken a solemn promise at that.

You’re no darn good, and you have a black heart.

Still, I’m sorry to see you torn so apart.”

 

“Oh, let me go back inside to your daughter.

I love her more now that she’s older and smarter,

than I ever did even when we were so young,

and I kissed her sweet lips and tasted her tongue.”

 

But that just wouldn’t do for the phantom farmer,

and down came justice on Mr. Parmer.

First came the pitchfork and then the bandsaw,

and the axe blade at last to finish it all.

 

And people still promise that they hear that charmer,

wailing in pain, “I didn’t mean to harm her.”

And some even say to watch for the farmer,

who will come for any man as bad as Mr. Parmer.

 

So when the White Lady comes to your porch

just say, “No thank you, I carry no torch,

but for the one woman I put a ring on.

And no girl can stop that. Now, woman, be gone.”

 

Listen here, close; come bend an ear.

For the wicked still have so much left to fear.

And if you sow promises, you better reap ‘em,

for the old farmers there to make sure that you keep ‘em.

 

Go now and make sure your unfaithfulness ceases,

or perhaps even you will be resting in pieces.

 

 

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