Heads Will Roll...

My name is Cyril; I am,
Or was, assistant to Samson the executioner,
Master of the Guillotine
In the Place de la Concorde in Paris;
Samson has cut off the heads
Of king and queen, commoner and aristocrat--
He says they all chop the same, no blue blood,
It's all red...I can vouch for that;
I'm the lad who mops it all up
Between executions!
How I longed to pull the lever,
Bring the great blade down, hear the slicing snap
Of severed flesh and bone--I've often begged
My boss, but he always says NO...
I'd love to see the guillotine come down
On his fat neck, the pig!
One night I went down to Montmartre
And sat in a smelly tavern for a drink...
A woman came and sat with me, her face
Covered with rouge and powder; she wasn't
Young or pretty, but I bought her a bottle of gin
And joked and flirted with her as she drank...
"You want to see something exciting?" I asked,
And she leered and said she would...
I bought her another bottle and we went off
Through dark alleys, to the Place de la Concorde--
I had to help her up the scaffold steps...
"Here, lie down," I whispered, and she giggled
As I put the stocks around her neck: "Look up!"
I told her, my hand on the lever, and she stared up--
Her scream cut off by the blade coming down
And I picked up her head by her nasty hair,
Watching her mouth open and close and open once more,
Her tongue hanging out...I felt like
God On High!
The next night I strolled along the Seine
Until I found Pierre, my old neighbor,
Who liked to fish at night;
"Any luck?" I asked, and listened to him complain
For awhile; "Never mind," I laughed,
"I know a tavern where they make a marvelous stew!
Come on, let's eat!"
Pierre followed me happily
To the Place de la Concorde
Where I hit him in the back of the head
And dragged his scrawny carcass up to the scaffold
And laughed as the blade snipped his skinny old neck...
Five more nights did I make my sacrifices:
Two children, a couple of drunken whores
And my landlady, the old bitch!
She screeched the loudest,
Brought the night-watchmen running
And I had to leave her body behind,
Although I took her head!
I kept all of their heads--I don't know why;
It seemed the thing to do...the gendarmes followed
The trail of blood my landlady's head left for them,
And found me in my garret, with my prizes...
So now I sit in the tumbril,
My heart pounding with excitement as they lead me
To my favorite place on earth...my ex-boss
sadly shakes his head as he puts mine in the stocks
And I smile up at the beautiful blade
Up in the sky...
I can't wait to feel her kiss on my-----------