The Machinations Of Sawney Beane

Sawney Beane

When out the crackled window pane
A body lain right near his brains
the gallows foul with thoughts and wit
His neck was snapped they saw it split

Begins the tale of Sawney Beane
A man of vile barbarities
And on the shores of Galloway
His family hunts in human preys.

A castle in the underground
With little light and lesser sound,
A hiding off the beaten path,
An earthly Hell with satan’s wrath.

Atrocities committed oft
where sons and daughters did accost.
And family life was wholly foul
On human flesh they clinched their jawls

Surfeit entrails were tossed aside
And washed ashore on evening tide,
No one knew how they picked their cut
Nor pickled all those human butts

For twenty-five full birthdays past
They squirreled around this cave so vast
breeding with unsavory pride
With dead skin hung on walls they bide

How grim a blackened heart must be
A vilest pique, untamed and free
Whilst education was amiss
This heinous life for Beane was bliss.

No one could edify his mind
Nor fathom fiendish hues they’d find
His life untamed by common wit
They mulled on his ignoble grit.

His den remained untraceable
and Sawney was insatiable
His clan had nabbed a man and wife
Alas this cost the woman life

They were deemed a writhing dinner pick,
They tore into her chest real quick
They feasted on her blood like wine,
Tore her entrails, exposed her spine.

Before his eyes the man was struck
With awe he watched them run amok.
Fair with him, they did not so well,
And one by one the Beanes were fell

Their last mistake, this fickle bunch
Was not to frisk this evening’s lunch
And so with but a simple scheme
He picked off all the nightmares seen.

The man escaped from surely snare
With pistol, gun and silent prayer
He ran to close authorities
And told them of his sovereignty

They strode over some droves of grass
And gathered on a mountain pass
Past the demonic thoroughfare
Where none heard their timid despair

Authorities asked for K-9 dogs
English bloodhounds to do their jobs
400 men, their task of site,
A murderer amid the pale moonlight.

That vile stench of carcasses
rotting in the passages
They found him past a mile down,
Where at high tide the waves won’t crown

No more a mystery, the man
They strung up Sawney and his clan
they chopped their feet, bollocks and hands
then watched them bleed out on the stand.

The woman fared no better than
Sawney and his oedipal band
The King had burned them thrice that day
and shook his head in sad dismay

For Sawney and his wretched clan
had no remorse for killing man
The foulest words he’d imprecate
for thousands died on Sawney’s plate

Paul Neglia

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.
Paul Neglia

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

13 thoughts on “The Machinations Of Sawney Beane

  • December 10, 2016 at 10:49 AM
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    A terrifying poetic tale indeed. Well done. Would never want to meet the likes of Sawney.

    Reply
    • December 11, 2016 at 9:34 AM
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      No definitely not. He was an awful thing. Doesnt even deserve the right to be called human. Thank you so much for your review.~Paul

      Reply
  • December 10, 2016 at 3:13 PM
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    Great poem of the legendary Sawney Beane. I remember reading about him and his clan years ago and your poem vividly describes the tale. Excellent phrasing, Paul.

    Reply
    • December 11, 2016 at 9:33 AM
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      Yeah Phyllis he was an awful thing, he was the farthest thing from a person that a person can be. Thank you for your fine review Phyllis.~Paul

      Reply
  • December 10, 2016 at 3:34 PM
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    How can one human being do such vile things to another is beyond our comprehension,l guess..but you have so vividly described a gruesome tale..thank you for sharing Paul..

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    • December 11, 2016 at 9:32 AM
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      He was an awful thing, I dont even think he deserves the title of person. I will switch direction after this, and good back to a nicer place, this one was dark and evil. Thank you so much my friend for your comments~Paul

      Reply
  • December 10, 2016 at 6:45 PM
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    A wonderful macabre tale my friend, as dark as dark can be. And I will take ‘pickled butt’ to my grave, lol. Well penned in classic verse of dastardly deeds and blood-lust. I loved it. Cheers!

    Reply
    • December 11, 2016 at 9:31 AM
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      Lol glad you took favor to this piece, this guy Sawney was a real evil dude. Much thanks Tony.~Paul

      Reply
  • December 11, 2016 at 8:50 AM
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    Beautifully dastardly, in rending folk style, by a more than talented writer. I thought you had left the other site. Glad to find you here, and finally see the real you!

    Reply
    • December 11, 2016 at 9:30 AM
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      Donald my friend, I did not leave the site I just took a small break. Anjana mentioned to me about this site, said to give it a chance. So here I am. I also plan to post on the other site, but if you are here all i need to get over here is Littlesong and i will be fine here. Yeah thats me and my puppy I wanted to find a family photo and will put that on soon. Thank you so much for your comments as always my dear friend, and glad to see you here as well. ~Paul

      Reply
  • December 11, 2016 at 8:52 PM
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    I’d never heard of Sawney Beane before, but now that I have I will never forget him or his clan. A great piece of grotesque poetry, Paul.

    Reply
  • February 4, 2017 at 8:24 AM
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    Hello Paul, wow! Just wow, with amazing flow you have vividly captured the most macabre, each line pulling the reader into the chilling next, very well done.

    Best,
    Mel

    Reply

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