The Mabel Smith Story
David Simmonds

Introduction

If you've read the book Fifth Business / you know that it begins
With an ill thrown snowball bringing on / a multitude of sins

This ode's no less ambitious / a snowball rashly hurled
And hanging in the balance / the future of the world

Part One

Put yourself in England / in 1959
Where food itself is punishment / and it drizzles all the time

Imagine your narrator / short pants and Prince Charles ears
The school's been told it's snowing / the largest storm in years

A snowball war's a certainty / and hostilities break out
So they tell us "spare civilians / or we'll thrash you till you shout"

I've barely left the schoolyard / when a snowball hits my chin
Thrown by Suzie Mulligan / with her noxious Suzie grin

If you know her like I do / you'll respond the same as me
Get her back and get her good / she can't get off scot free

The rage wells up inside me / I form a shrapnel shell
I pitch it back at Suzie / and yell out "rot in hell"

But I've been out manoeuvred / she deftly steps aside
And I hit some sweet old lady / right on her backside

If I was more a gentleman / I'd rush up to her aid
Instead I act the six year old / and run away afraid

I don't know my victim / so I conjure up a name
I call her Mrs. Mabel smith / and wallow in my shame

She's persevered through two world wars /
through times both dark and dire
She's earned herself a quiet old age / not death by friendly fire

By remarkable coincidence / I'm stricken sick in bed
My mother fusses while my fate / is spinning in my head

"Young thug turns on helpless gran" / the rags will point at me
"Bring back the strap don't spare the lash / see sunshine girl page 3"

But no court martial waits at school / which isn't such a shock
If Suzie dares to tattle tale /she'll join me in the dock

But what will Mabel Smith do? / I fret both long and hard
The papers, cops or parents? / she holds a few high cards

But she chooses to play none of them / I live another day
Will she just turn the other cheek?/ my instincts cry "no way"

So my hunch is some years later / as she shuffles off this coil
She tells St. Pete "theres someone / who still makes my blood boil"

She recounts the Suzie incident / and he pulls his cold case file
Checks with St. Nick and Interpol / and the rap sheet's long and vile

"Always takes the biggest slice / breaks his brother's toys
Tries his hand at music / just produces excess noise"

My conclusion, though I wasn't there / is Mabel Smith was told
"We'll make him pay and don't forget / revenge is best served cold"

Part Two

Several uneventful years pass by / I keep my profile low
Till my father tells the gang one day/ "to Canada we'll go"

It takes some getting used to / the humidity and heat
But winter's freeze and bright clear sun / have dreary rainfall beat

I'll say this with a straight face / it's useless to deny
My wife and I move willingly / to the land of Colonel By

We love the miles of skiing trails / and endless rinkless skates
The exotic dining places / The Place Next Door and Nate's

But we start to notice winter change/ around the Y2K
You can't count on snow and cold / to give you chance to play

The snow falls in your driveway / you shovel and complain
Your neighbour waits - his flushed away / in the next day's heavy rain

So you vow to act much smarter / check the weatherman's advice
Wake up expecting melting / and confront a sheet of ice

You give in and hire the specialists / it snows they don't arrive
You're told "your contract's 5cm' /and we've had just 4.5"

Or you get a massive blizzard / the outcome's just as bleak
"we're running at capacity / we'll get to you next week

Real men don't wear ice creepers / I'm sure some wag has said
But they also hate to slip and fall / And smash their hips or head

There's no two ways about it / winter's turned to hell
We must learn what's behind it / So my tale I'm bound to tell

I'm sorry to confound you / Mr. Dion Mr. Baird
But there's an explanation/ for which you've not prepared

It's really all quite personal / the Al Gore stuff's a myth
God's made my winter miserable / to pay back Mabel Smith

I never knew my snowball mulligan / ( I was just six at the time)
Would send the earth careening / to calamitous decline

So I implore you God and Mabel / (if I may be so bold)
Forgive me all my youthful sins / and bring back our winter cold.

Conclusion

So we await the outcome / what will she decide?
And if she grants forgiveness / will it turn the tide?

If she does but still the elements / wreak their merry mess
I'll have to ask - do some of you / have sins you should confess?

And if we're all let off the hook / for every hurt or slight
Things still get worse lets face it / Al Gore must be right