The Spiritualist Minister & His Wife (deceased) Copyright © 2009 Colin Whyles

Inspired by the tale of the Reverend David Chenery-Wickens, a Spiritualist Minister who murdered his wife, a noted make-up artist, because she found out about his various affairs. He was known as The Vicar of Fibley because of the lies he told. He was jailed for 18 years.

These verses are the lyrics to a song. Words and music Copyright © Colin Whyles 3rd March 2009

“You bastard!”, she said,
From far beyond the grave,
“You did me in, sent me here,
You weren't thinking, clearly,
Do you think you are safe?
You seemed to forget
You're a Spiritualist Minister,
You don't need a lecture
To expect a spectre
The spooky and sinister;
At the least it is cynical.”

“You bastard!”, she said,
“I now never need to sleep,
You are going to find soon
That neither will you
By just counting sheep
You weren't so clever
To keep out of a cell,
I know where you've gone
And you won't be alone,
I'll give you bloody hell!
For tolling my knell!”

“You had five or six women
They tell me, for sure,
A baker's dozen, maybe
One day they will face me
I'll give them what for,
But don't think I'll wait
I can get them right now
You've made it so easy
I can be where it pleases me,
You bastard!”, she yowled,
(Set to wolverine howls)

“You bastard!”, she said,
It was hollow but resounding,
“Those walls that restrain you
All there is to entertain you
Will not stop you from drowning
They will just stop you running
But they won't stop your screams
Those walls that contain you
That usefully frame you
Are nothing to me,
I can walk through with ease.”

“You bastard!”, she said,
The menace was haunting,
“I've come back to make up
In various nefarious ways
For what you were flaunting
We'll see what this ghoul
Will do to your ghoulies,
Mashed, stewed and mangled
Reduced to a tangle
They'll be pretty useless,
Mouldering and putrid.”

“You bastard!”, she said,
And she said it with relish,
“The future is certainly
Long and uncertain,
Expect it to be hellish,
The fires are burning,
I'm stoking them high,
You can squeal, you can squirm,
You can twist, you can turn,
Just be sure not to die -
You will certainly fry!”