The Hand of Tong Bao Lin
I stood in front of the guillotine
And paled at the sharpened blade,
The motor hummed as my mind went numb
And my body shook and swayed,
The sweat poured into my open eyes
And blinded and burned like sin,
But I had no choice, I had to be free
Of the Hand of Tong Bao Lin.
I'd worked in China for seven years
In the city of old Qingdao,
If I hadn't been such a hero, I
Would still be working there now;
But I got involved in a scuffle there
When a woman was being attacked,
He'd snatched her bag and I snatched it too,
So he turned on me, and hacked.
I'd heard of the mean Hand-Chopper Gang,
Just petty crims on the whole,
They stole whatever was not nailed down,
Just handbags, wallets and gold,
But they carried machetes under their coats
For the woman who fought like mad,
If she wouldn't let go, they'd chop off her hand
And carry it off with the bag.
I stood in shock, and stared at my wrist,
While he took off, scot free,
My hand still clutching the shoulder strap
But it wasn't attached to me,
I bled all over the pavement there,
Collapsed in a bloody heap,
I only discovered my hand was gone
When I woke from a troubled sleep.
The doctors there were marvellous,
They tidied it up no end,
But it isn't much consolation when
You can't shake hands with a friend,
I'd just about been resigned to it
When in walked Doctor Chu,
He was something to do with the government,
Said - 'I need to talk with you! '
'Let's say that it's just an experiment,
Long odds, but you may just win,
Get you a working hand again,
Though one with a yellow skin.'
I signed the form with my one good hand
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poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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