“Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.“
- My muse, as it were.
There lived a boy, his name was Jack,
With but the clothes upon his back.
To his regret, this wayward soul
Was born down on the streets of coal.
His home beneath the more well-off,
The ash and soot gave him a cough.
As he grew up, young Jack grew keen
To leave for somewhere that was clean.
A world away, ‘neath lace and frill,
There lived a girl, her name was Jill.
Good fortune smiled throughout her life;
Not once had she been put through strife.
But not quite all was as it seemed,
Her perfect life with falsehoods teemed.
As she lived on, Jill yearned to be
Cleansed of the lies and somewhere, free.
For both of them, the answer lies
Down in a well that feeds the skies.
And on one day, both Jill and Jack
Decided it was time to act.
They knew the myth, they knew the tale,
They sought the magic of the Pail:
When coupled with the skywell’s stream,
Come true would all its holder’s dreams.
Beneath the earth this old Pail lay,
Within the crypts of rank decay.
Jill ran quick, while Jack moved fleet
And at the door, the two did meet.
Newly met, our pair set off
(While Jack suppressed his long-lived cough.)
Below the ground, the air grew stale
And fiercely guarded was the Pail.
A wall of thorns, a veil of screams,
An endless maze of dying dreams.
But useful skills they did not lack,
And set to work did Jill and Jack.
With callused hands the thorns Jack broke,
Died down did screams when bold Jill spoke,
And side by side, they did withstand
The maze and left with Pail in hand.
Their treasure won, our pair required
A place to rest, for they were tired.
Upon the well they’d set their sights,
But could not travel in the night.
They settled down and ate their fill;
Tomorrow, they would climb the hill.
The soft night’s rest was time well spent,
But soon, day broke, and off they went
To climb the hill, to fill the Pail,
And reap the rich rewards entailed.
They stood together at the base
Of the sheer, steep mountain face.
They shared a look, they looked on high,
And hand in hand, began to climb.
They almost made it to the top.
But halfway, Jack began to cough.
At first a rasp, and then a hack,
He soon began to hold Jill back.
And as they neared the mountain’s peak,
Jack found he simply was too weak.
And all at once, his grip gave way;
He broke his crown and fell away.
The loss of Jack did break young Jill
Who wept alone atop the hill.
Not just for his demise she wailed
But for his hand, which held the Pail.
And yet, if she could get it back,
What worth had it without her Jack?
And all at once, with tortured laughter,
Did fall down Jill, who tumbled after.
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