Some Seasonal Poems for Halloween
Posted on Saturday 18th October 2008 9:14 pm
|
Here are some seasonal poems for Halloween, all true, as told by my family from North Longford... "Old Clonbroney" is the story of a man who met a headless horseman when calling on a neighbour after moving into the area.
Apperantly this is actually true, the miller he was calling on was an uncle of mine who lived in Clonbroney, where an old road led up to a disused cemetry, and a new road now led to the village. The old road partly made the lane to his house and mill that used to be on the side of the old road, but the road was blocked of at the rear, where both sides had grown in to form one hedgegrow that went up the fiends to the old cemetry. ========================== ========================== |
========================== Dead Souls And Black Dogs ========================== The little old lady had lived for long, She was great of age And the time was coming along For her to exit life’s stage But there were those who dwelt beside her That strange things of her said She had contact with the other world And that strange prayers she made Some they were of her afraid And were not afraid to say That when she was dead It would not be a bad day. And so the illness struck And slowly she got more weak And by her her neighbours stuck And failed bad of her to speak For tis bad ill to speak of the dying And of those that are past and gone So to pray and think good they were trying Though they fooled no one. They were gathered in the bedroom More in the living room too There was but two for a broom For large houses they were few. And the toilet it was outside Water was drawn from a well As was normal for the times standards applied As many old people will tell. And the chatter of the neighbours As the woman drew her last breath Was silenced as from her room Came a shout at her moment of death, And of a sudden, out the door A big black dog fled Snarling, racing across the floor The spirit of the woman, now dead! “Twas Satan himself” more say Came to take her soul to Hell And to their knees to pray In unison, they fell. Those near the door outside raced fast To the yard where the beast had been And light twas good though evening was past: There was no dog to be seen. If this is all true I don’t know But to tell it I never fail For when there is conversation in flow It sure makes a damn good tale! ========================== The Hungry Grass ========================== A shiver runs up my spine As stories I recall Of people dead in times gone by I was told of when I was small. Of famine dead who to the workhouse went Dropped dead as they our gate did pass And the ground on which they fell Became known as the hungry grass. For should one walk upon it Even though they did just eat The hunger gnawing would strike them Till they were quick upon their feet And nothing would quench the hunger So the story’s said Bar milk and break hand torn The only sustenance of those now dead. You could eat meat untill full At any other time be you would But this time the hunger only by bread Hand torn, washed by milk would Quench the hunger of the dead Who outside our gate died Not so terribly long ago Who to survive tried But the Lord in mercy took them Though grain was exported at the time And people died for want of bread… Oh the shame for Britain of the crime! Some people don’t believe the story When I tell of the Hungry Grass Should I go there I tell you On the other side of the road I’ll pass! | ||||||
Lucy Lepchani
Sun 9th Nov 2008 22:16
Gritty subject matter well conveyed.