Mary Ann Sate, Imbecile, page 6
Cuckoo nightingale pigeon thrush
Swallow rise high and plunge down steep
See together the greens of the wood
White poplar grey sally mellow lime
Stand wavering on his shoulders
As he lift me high to raise warm eggs
From knottd nest and suck them out slow
Yet I have not more time to think on this
For we strike the flint and light the fire
Fetch carry pull toss all the scrub
All soon flizzie up
After that Sybilla went back up home
Ambrose and I stayd on
The flames leap warm green and copper crackles
The light of the evening brokd and silver
The edge of the clouds hemmd steel
But still the sun bright at the rim
Bring a gleam to all the fields
Together we put in sticks to get them burning
Then waving them through the wind
Twisting and turning tumbling on the bank
Following always the flicker of red
Twizzle it through the watery air
Then Ambrose need to relieve hisself
Which he done close to the fire so to keep warm
I laughing so at the neat little pile it made
So twas we decide to make it into a patty
So I did also relieve myself
That we should have a smart pair of them
Agreed we should cook the two up on the fire
Though laughing so much bent near double
Pushing gainst each other guffawing so
We could not stop ourselves
So bewitchd and befoxd were we
We never notice Mrs Freda Woebegone
Come fly down the field sleeve flapping
Black crow tongue flaying eyes scouring
Straightway she shout us stern
For unseemly behaviour
Still not worried I thought
She cannot tell the difference
One sort of mud same as other
Yet I was much deceive
For she seemd to know right well
Her temper already flaring high
Afore she reach to us
Now spark sharp fire up a fraddling rage
Arms flailing hands ready to slap
I thought she would burst open
Be spread all up the Valley side
Such were she taking on
Caught hold of Ambrose and me
Face red as a radish
Pinching sharp one each ear
Drag us shrilling back up the hill
Slipping and sliding in the dirt
She never let go our stinging ears
All the way shouting
Under the grey wash and struggling sun
Even the lace trees bend away as she shriek
About the fearful and unbelieving
The murderers sorcerers and idolators
How all have their part in the burning lake
That is the second death
When she got us back
She strippd my apron and blouse from me
Beat me raw cross the shoulders
All the while holding me down
The heavy flat of her hand
Yet this the question Ambrose and me
We were thicker stronger than we had been
No childers more but growing fast
She but a sapling woman
Though flint hard never to be broke
So when she start on Ambrose
I snatch hold of the cane
Held on tight she snarling wild dog
Fight me for it fingers scratching
Try to gouge out my eyes
Bring all the curse of God and Bible
Down on me
Til Mr Woebegone come in from the yard
Pull Ambrose out the way
She say The child is filthy Satan in her
You can see it in her face
She is not right she say
We should not have her
Christian charity or no
Hear no any more for Ambrose and me
Heels flickaway to the hay loft
First me crying for the pain
The weight of sin that was in me
For the Devil got in me made me do such wrong
Still Ambrose was fooling
It were not long afore I rollicking again
I should not have done so
When we come out the loft I see Mrs Woebegone
She sitting by the range and rub eye weeping
Her hands wrung tight together
Her shoulder slump right down
The world is not as she would want it to be
I can find pity for that
She will not always
Keep the fiddle in the cupboard so
The cider hidden out on barn beam
Perhaps it were that thought kept me awake
I do not know for why
Yet those pamphlets always alive in my mind
So I went down to the parlour
Careful not to creak even one board
Move the chair and look down in that hole
Those pamphlets were vanishd
In some way I knew it even afore I saw
What now will happen I ask myself
Who took them and where
For some tiny moment I did consider
Tell Mrs Woebegone
Like her I want things put straight
She keeps the house tetherd down tight
She is cruel but safe
Of course I would not tell her
As I go back upstairs
A wind blew gainst the chimbleys
Rattle around inside them
Whistle and hoot
Could blow all the house away
Like a dandelion clock as we make
One puff
Gone
MOUNT VERNON
Last night as I write those last word
The silence of the house split open
A horrible growling yell burst up all the stairs
I hurry to my Master though a lump in my chest
Does strangle all my breath
When I get there my Master is sat up in bed
His hands stretchd out veins clinging red
His hair that grows thick even at this late age
All ruckld on his head His eyes standing out
He says He was here My brother
I saw him here He stand at the foot of my bed
Now come come I say You know tis not true
Only the fever takes you
This is how I speak to him now
As child to mother
Yet so it evr was
With both those two
Though I always the younger
Takes hold of his shoulders now
Shakes the nightmare out of he
Til he falls back on the bed
Groaning shifting like a girt tormentd beast
The linen all knot around
Yet still he is seizd by terror
Nay nay I say
Let me fetch water for you
Put a poultice on yr leg
Go to the kitchen then fetch
Calomel and tar ointment
Bandages wrap weeping ulcers
And venomd nabcess tight
Still the Master turns in the bed
Speaks again saying
I saw him He was here
Aye aye I think So tis true
I may not have seed he myself
Yet tis sure he is back among us now
Moving through the shadows of this house
As once he move through Stocton Hill
That was his fathers house
How can we lay him back in his grave again
Get the lid of the coffin bang down once more
Fold the welcoming earth ovr he
Standing at the foot of the Masters bed
What is it that his brother want
Vengeance Justice What he never had in life
He has a right to ask
Yet I shall not be the one
To give that to he
I made my decision many years ago
Cannot go back
Nothing can give it to him now
Except perhaps God Hisself
When all shall come to stand afore
His Judgement Seat
But in truth Vengeance Justice
He were not that mould of man
Perhaps all he wants
That he should have his voice heard
Should be listend to after all these years
That his span upon this mortal earth
Should end in something more than dust
This we must all desire
That some person bear witness to our lives
Know us in all our deepest parts
As Ambrose know me all those years ago
Under the dripping field where we dancd
THE HEAVENS
Always I am caught in the balance
Mr Woebegone Mrs Woebegone
Tip one way then tother
One day he will lose his battle
Then will trouble come
Yet afore that happen come a day
Turn the balance my way
Or not my way I do not know
For better or worse
I cannot say
It fell out like this
Sybilla and I walk back from school
Up Dry Hill and through the wood
As we do most every day
Ambrose is not with us now
Tis meant he stay at school all day
Which cost some pence extra
But he is sick at home
None at The Heavens know
Those pence all waste
Even when he is healthful
He not go there evr
One day will be discoverd
So Sybilla and I walk alone
The shoulder of the Valley side
Pass the weavers cottages
Come to the Coombs where the stream flow
Where we stop to build a dam sometime
Boys swing on a piece of rope high above
But we dare not daddle long
On account of Mrs Woebegone
Must get home start the fire in the wash house
Mash up food to give to Baby Fern
So we turn up the way to The Heavens
A track all inclosd on both sides by steep banks
Surround thick on all sides by trees
We walk on up as we do each day
Hitting at the banks and bushes with sticks
Hear the flick and hollow echo
All happy as the day is caressing warm
School is done
For supper may be peas and gooseberries
As is the season now
So we rounds the corner not far from home
When a terrible sight appears afore us
Standing in the way is a white bull
Such is the width and height
He fill out all cross the lane
His rock shoulders near up to the branch above
He come from Claypits Farm
Seed him when we go down the garden
Cross the farm yard next door
Climbing on the fence to tease he
With long sticks of grass
But now he is not pennd or fencd
Sybilla steps back
Opens her mouth as if to scream
But I steps smart up behind her
Slaps hand ovr her mouth
Holding her firm
Feeling her heart beating
Like the wings of trappd bird
Gainst my chest
The bull stands watching us
Head down horns point at us
I look up to one side and then tother
The banks are up right steep
I am strong and a lithe climber
So might perhaps get up
Use the roots of trees
As ladder in the mud
Yet I could not pull Sybilla as well
Her arms being thin as ribbons
Though she can be a spiteful pinching miss
Yet she is a sister to me
I cannot leave her
All this I think in the space of a second
The bull lowers his head
Paws the earth opens his mouth
In a growling bellow
Sybilla makes again to shout
But still I holds her tight
Says do not move Do not move one muscle
For some how I know
In this moment of dire extremity
That the Lord God will decide
If the bull sees not our fear
He may not charge
So that is my decision
I stand still and straight chin up
In the strength of the Almighty
Fix my eyes firm on his
Scowling darkly eyed visage
He bellows again tips his weight forward
Lowers head
Now he comes I think
I pray Lord save our souls
Save now our mortal souls
Many I know is haunchd by bulls
Gone dead in an instant
I feel the air thicken
Hear the beating of wings
The Angels are come
Massd above the banks in the trees
They hold the bull where he is
Though his head is low hoof scraping
Forward and back forward and back
The Angels hold me where I am
Quite strong and firm and God strengthend
My eyes fixd straight on his
I know not how long we stand like that
Then behind the bull
I see men come from the farm
Mr Woebegone hisself
Know now the bull is loose
At first they come waving pitchfork rake
But then praise God they see how we are placd
If they run on
They will trap the bull make him run scard
So drive him on into us rather than away
So quick and stealthy they mount the banks
Side of the road is not as steep where they are
I do not watch
Hear only the silent snap of a twig
I must not look up at them
Only keep my eyes on the bull
Fix the deep candles of his eyes
See right in the dark inside of he
Another shuffle and a snap
I know the men are above
Then a coming from either side they appear high
Start a terrible shouting hollering
Banging of sticks waving cratch and duns pick
They jump down now into the lane
The bull is afeard
Begins to turn away
Mr Abel Woebegone comes beside me
Lifts Sybilla out my arms
She turns fantomy and now gone dead
The bull bellows turns gallops away
Mr Woebegone lift Sybilla away up the bank
Iron arms lift me aloft also
While others run after the bull afeard of what
Further damage he may do
Mr Woebegone hold Sybilla tight in his arms
Like the Good Lord Our Shepherd found His flock
I laugh and brush my hands together Pleasd
For I have got upsides of that bull
That not the finish of the story of the bull
For that eve in the kitchen talk much
Among those present was that same
Mr Harland Cottrell
I recognizd him straightway from the school
Think Oh yes Tis he
For now I hear his name
I realize I have heard much talk
He livd the other side of Stroud
At a place they call Stocton Hill
He a man live close up tight to God they say
Take no flesh or fish or strong liquor
Yet more than that he is a cunning man
Having travelld to many far countries
Skilled in physic and herb
So having a certain gift for the healing of
Rare and stubborn ailments
Mr Woebegone know him but I know not for why
Mrs Woebegone do not hold with he
Not want he come to The Heavens
She considers him heathen
As he not of our faith
But Ambrose been ill now so long a time
Others have come with potions salves
Plasters on his chest blood letting
Leeches stuck on behind his ears
The wounds being sufferd to bleed
For some long hours
Yet none has made him well so tis
Mr Woebegone send for Mr Harland Cottrell
Mrs Woebegone say he waste his money
Tis well known Mr Harland Cottrell
Not a real doctor or even an apothecary
Now he has already tend Ambrose
Says he has got the Vipers Dance
But this receipt will heal soon enough
Since the boy seem straightway rather better
We must all be respectful to such as
Mr Harland Cottrell
Pagan or no he is a gentleman
So Mr Woebegone say Sit you down
Eat afore you go
