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For bohemians everywhere

Penny Griggs – Avalanche (1979)

[From ‘Bohemian Bagatelle‘, published 1979 by the Bohemians]

 

 

AVALANCHE

 

The sun shone brightly all evening,

Brightly in the month of June.

It hid behind a large white cloud,

Only to re-appear as the moon.

The last people had come in

After their go on the snow,

The skiers had finished their skiing,

The walkers had nowhere to go.

The moon did brightly glisten,

As I heard a walker’s cry,

It echoed round the mountains,

And faded into the night.

On one of the mountains I saw a large rock,

Tipping, and starting to slide;

The cry had shaken the mountain,

And started the large rock to slide.

As it hastened to slide down the mountain,

It grew bigger as it rolled through the snow,

Then down below I saw people,

No concern to the rock did they show.

They did not know the rock was above them,

As they continued to laugh and tease,

Meanwhile the rock was sliding faster,

Crashing through bushes and trees.

I knew that to shout would be silly,

As I was too far away,

So I drastically ran to the tower,

To pass my message that way.

I told the man of the trouble,

He picked up his megaphone,

He shouted out to the people,

To quickly return to home.

They understood his message;

The echo shook snow again,

It rumbled, and fell from the mountain,

Like, from a cloud, falls rain.

The people luckily were saved,

But now there was a fog,

As I looked into the misty darkness,

I saw a little dog;

Following behind, were three small girls,

Throwing a stick for the dog to return;

We could not attract their attention,

For they were in their own small world.

Suddenly, the large rock fell,

The children could not be saved,

I stood nearby their family,

As their children went to their graves.

Then suddenly, from behind a rock,

The little dog did appear,

Sniffing for his mistresses,

But they were nowhere near.

Now the tower was filled with tears,

Three children, they were dead,

An arm was placed round their mothers,

While out of the tower they were led.

Now the disaster was over,

And the thick fog was rising.

The night was not as clear as before,

Could one night be so surprising?

People began to clear rubble,

Some people made hot soup inside,

To warm the hearts of those unlucky people,

Whose loved ones, they had died.

Now I looked out on the snow again,

The moon, it did still shine,

I remembered that awful disaster,

Those memories that were mine.

 

Penny Griggs (aged 13)

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