The Tallyman (Old Septic Knuckles)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 08, 2017

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Submitted: July 08, 2017





 The tallyman. (Old Septic Knuckles)


Shut thi doors, Tallyman’s coming

You could hear the townsfolk shout

Mek sure you’ve turned yur telly off

Pretend that you are out


Sneck yur windows

Nice and tight

Hush your dogs

Keep out of sight

Draw your curtains

Hide your stash

Tallyman’s coming

To tek yur cash


Old Septic Knuckles, the tallyman

Thirty-two stone of pure fat

Big and rotund, with a large cummerbund

A bit like a pig in a hat


He cycled into Maggot Farm Boulevard

Right up to Sylvie’s front gate

A straining and creaking of iron

As his bike struggled under his weight


The frame was buckled and twisted

The crossbar was wobbly and bent

You’ll not need too much imagination

To work out where the saddle just went


He crept up to Sylvie’s front window

Which was covered with dirt, and with grime

And going by what was scrawled on it

It had been like that for some time


It said Sylvie does it for coppers

And it listed her mischievous vices

It hadn’t been cleaned for some time now

And still displayed last year’s prices


Old Septic Knuckles banged on her window

Nearly shook it right out of its frame

His hands were calloused and scabby

That’s how he got his daft name


Sylvie was frying a kipper

With the kitchen door opened wide

When he rattled her lion’s head knocker

 So Sylvie decided to hide


He peered in, through the letterbox

Saw the kipper, frying in the pan

He shouted “Sylvie, I know that yur in there”

“Open t’door… it’s the tallyman”


Poor Sylvie had built up arrears

She was over four payments behind

And when Septic Knuckles, came to collect

He expected instalments, in kind


So she kept out of sight in the kitchen

Her heart was beginning to throb

She looked at the stove, with the kipper still cooking

And she wished she had turned off the knob


“I can stop here all day” he shouted

Eyes fixed on the kipper, still frying

“I know that yur in there, unless kippers cook theresen”

“It’s about time you started complying”


But Sylvie stayed put, in the kitchen

Which wasn’t the best place to hide

The kipper a tad overdone now

That’s more than two minutes each side


He never took his eyes from the letterbox

As the kipper began to catch flames

“Come on now Sylvie, enough is enough”

“I’m not here to play silly games”


The kipper got hotter and hotter

And created an acrid smoke screen

So Sylvie just turned the gas ring off

And slipped out of the backdoor – unseen



She knows he’ll be back in a week’s time

A thought that filled her with dread

But kippers are right off the menu

She’ll be having cornflakes for breakfast instead


© Copyright 2019 K J Walker. All rights reserved.

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