DRUMMY SUTTON

Poetry, by Ken Bradbury, 1998

Two young boys dare to visit the frightening house of Drummy Sutton. They learn the lesson of not passing judgment upon other people.

Duration

6 - 8 minutes

    Cast Options

  • 1 Male

Product Id: #553

Price
$6.00
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An excerpt …

Oh, we can do some foolish things

'tween mama's womb and death's cold sting.

But nothin's worse before the tomb,

than when we judge a man too soon.

(two boys decided to visit the old scary house of Drummy Sutton)

The house ...

It sat perched up on the ridge that snaked on down to where we lived.

And when the moon was not in sight, when the clouds had hid it's light,

that old house moved left, then right; its fingers reached to snatch the night.

"Let's go tonight!" I said to Jake, a sort of boyish joke I didn't think he bought it. But that ignorant fool said, "Heck, why not!" and I was caught. "Let's creep the back way up so he can't see us!" Jake did say.

(some bad luck ... Drummy is home)

Two red eyes, like ugly sores, blinked inside that summer door. Two white teeth, that'd lost their mates, grinned at us like devil's fate. One big old warty nose swelled from out a face. It was like those you'd heard about from some old liar while circled 'round a camp-out fire. A stubbly beard-like gristle growed upon a chin both white and old.

I looked at Jake; he looked at me. We both looked like sheets you'd see hangin' on ma's

washin' line, all pale and starched. We was near to cryin' but 'fore we turned to run and hide, a

gravel-voice said, "Come on inside ..."

When Jake flew off that porch and stair, he left his shadow standin' there.

(they took off running for home)

Briars and bushes, thorns and stings, stickers, thistles, prickly things; shrubs and ridges, hedge and hollers, all flew by with ghostly wings. Down the crick bank, up the draw ... scared the scarecrow made of straw ... flyin' at least a foot off ground, makin' still that awful sound. The folks in town who heard my yell, thought there'd come the hounds of hell. I hit our kitchen door a lick, shot up the stairs and super quick jumped into my feather bed, wonderin' if I would soon be dead.

(there is a surprise for the boys when Drummy Sutton dies)

Oh, we can do some foolish things

'tween mama's womb and death's cold sting.

But nothin's worse before the tomb,

than when we judge a man too soon.

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