I woke from bed and wiped the glass to see a girl in white,
running through the pasture and then to my heart’s delight,
she smiled at me, then waved her hand above the sill and said,
“Hello, my name is Barbagal. I’ve come to shave your head.”
I said, “Alright”, for I did not see how a trim could do me harm
and so with scruffy locks I ran to greet her at the barn.
“Two shillings, please” said the little girl. “Sir, I’m saving for some pigs.
One that’s tall and fit to haul my wagon full of wigs!”
“An entrepreneur!” I yelped aloud. “Why, I’ll give you just the sum.”
To which the girl, this Barbagal replied, “I need a plum.
A tasty fruit of any kind, I need for preparation,
for cutting locks of reddish hue is quite the operation.
Consider it the finest scrub your scalp will ever know.
Sadly sir, you’ll need to front a larger sum of dough.”
With arms outstretched and pockets bare, I darted from that spot
and landed back in Kensington, to tell of what I ought.
“Farmers, fickle freelance folks, and friends, if you may be,
I’ve a sum for one fresh plumb, and bushels for one tree.
So happened on a day like this, a girl who cuts red hair
And if I do so say myself, no charge could be as fair.
The lucky fresh-plumb bearer shall be paid when I am shaved
and on good deed, is guaranteed my payment won’t be waved.”
Two boys fell forward laughing with a plumb tied to their wrists
and told me that they’d make a trade for what was on my fists.
“Four plumbs for four fine rings” they said, “And then we’ll cut a deal,
assuming that those bands of yours are quite the curve of steel.”
We shook then I ran back to see a barbered-barn and pigs,
fit to haul a king-sized stall, and all while wearing wigs.
It seemed that she’d made quite the pitch, as crowds had gathered round
a girl with plumbs and lightning thumbs
who started from the ground.
I got that scrub and shaven head, and all was good until
two boys with silver rings and things approached the same old sill.
“Aha!” I did so yelp aloud. “Just now what is your aim?”
to which the younglings pitched at me the semblance of a game.
“Shiny Things Incorporated, good sir, if you ask,
you are surely signing to a most amusing task.
Good sir, if you complete it, then a partner you shall be, and
by your wit, shall cut the fit it takes to be a three!
Do tell us where the truffles rest
and you’ll get your reply.
Assuming you live by your word,
you’d give our task a try.”
The little misfits cornered me.
I couldn’t back away.
By my hand
and their command,
I had to lift the hay!
They got my stockpile truffles
so that I could share in stock,
and rightly lift the coffer
as to proffer shining schlock.
Turns out that girl who owned the wigs
had branched out through her friends
to pay her show pigs truffles,
with her brothers’ dividends.