This story (except for the "Migaldi, Magaldy" bit which is a later affectation that I liked to say out loud - though never in company!) is almost a verbatim recollection from my childhood after moving out of London as part of the London Overspill migration into the first Garden City. I suppose these events happened when I was about seven or eight. As an adult I revisited my childhood haunts to find many, including this one, had been replaced with bricks and mortar.
The lyrics definitely came first with Pansy Potter. Although I had always intended it to be a song I read them out at a gathering of friendly poets who patiently explained why it would never work as a poem! Following a radio broadcast during which I listened to two composers discussing the difficulty of setting Shakespeare to music I had attempted writing a song with lyrics in pentameters. The composers were right, but that song may well appear on another album. The musical challenge I set myself for completing this song was to compose the song using mixed meters, but mainly focussing on one used less commonly. I settled on squeezing the words mostly into a 5/8 metre with forays into 6/8 and 4/4 from time to time. Of course this created a bit of a challenge when it came to working out how to play guitar and drum rhythms in 5/8 - not something I do much of beyond this song. Maybe I should now I know I can do it.
lyrics
Mrs Potter was a witch (all the children knew).
Migaldi Magaldi, raggle and taggle! At night upon a broom she flew.
Scrawny, skinny, grubby pinny, screeching scared me. Big boys dared me.
I’d seen them in their bravado, gathering outside and calling,
“Pansy Potter! Pansy Potter! Smelly old witch in a caravan.
Come and chase us with your stick and catch us if you can.”
The curtains twitched, the door flung wide.
The miserable woman hobbled outside.
She waved her stick. She cursed and cried and everyone turned and ran.
“Scarper, boys, as fast as you can!”
My mother said to keep away. Then spoke to her one day.
Migaldi Magaldi raggle and taggle, old Pansy screeched, “Scum overspill!”
Mum thought it best to avoid a scene and, with a tear she turned away.
It wasn’t that she didn’t care … the boys came back and started calling,
“Pansy Potter! Pansy Potter! Smelly old witch in a caravan …
She always made me curious about life in a caravan.
Migaldi Magaldi raggle and taggle! I’d chant her name as I ran
“Pansy Potter, Pansy Potter,” round and round in my head.
“She’s a gypsy,” my best friend said,
“And she knows spells to strike you dead!”
All the boys knew, but still they came.
So brave they were to chant her name …
“Pansy Potter! Pansy Potter! Smelly old witch in a caravan …
My best friend and I tried it once, we hid by a bush and called her names.
Migaldi Magaldi raggle and taggle, Stupid kiddies’ games!
I didn’t feel brave and I couldn’t see why the big boys liked to make her cry.
I caught a glimpse of a widow who just wanted to be left alone.
Decades ago the trailers were cleared, the gardens dug up, the site was sold.
The boys had grown up and to a man they followed the town development plan.
They honoured a creed that clearly states, “You must speculate to accumulate.”
But what about Pansy? Is she ever given a thought?
No memorial marking the ground where she walked.
It’s hallowed. Your feet are cursed.
Mrs. Potter, whose grandma were you?
(Music and lyrics by Marshlander - all rights reserved)
credits
from Head Above Water,
released May 1, 2019
Marshlander: vocal, guitar, harmonica, drums
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