Seeghums Bay ( the death of Molly McDoogle)


Shallow pools reflecting
Dark secrets.

Grinding wheels of grist mill paddle,
I so weary upon my saddle,
Worn out rider I battle,
Sleep and comfort of yonder Inn.

The rider tarry's forth,
And into nights abyss,
The deed, the mission,
to uncover the coming tale of this;

Miss Molly McDoogle of Wilcott fame
Went a missing this October day,

Tending sheep in the pasture ,
Running after lambs and the like,

She came across a misfortune.
And fearful plight it might be.

We found her crook and bonnet
A lying in the grass,
The sheep and lambs were scattered,
No sign of this poor lass.

Save for a single foot print,
But nay, it was not hers.
Cloven large and mysterious,
Twas not one of the herds,

We came across her mangled body,
Down by Seeghums Bay,
A beast so scary and slurthy,
took her life that day.

So now I ride with musket in hand,
I am one of many men,
That hunts the beast this night,
To put Miss Molly McDoogle to rest,
And free her from earths plight.

We will not rest until beast is caught,
And wrought in iron chains,
The loathsome beast will rue the day,
That he took life in Seeghums bay.

A shot rings out over the hill,
Tis the musket of Miller Gill,

I spur him on; my trusty steed,
Banging through swamp, water, and reed.

Rearing up on a loathsome site,
A horrible beast set my horse afright.

Thrown to the ground with musket stove,
I pulled my dagger and down I dove,
laying, waiting for the beasts next move,

Growling, wheezing, the ball had found it's mark.
I waited, I wondered as the swamp became dark.

Such a fright had beset me that I stayed through the night,
Come the next morning my hair had turned white.

The evil that lay within that field had simply slipped away,
He still roams the woods the valleys of Seeghum's Bay today.




Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 455 times
Written on 2007-03-03 at 18:51

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