The early poems of John Clare 1804-1822: General editor Eric Robinson: Edited by Eric Robinson and David Powell: Associate editor Margaret Grainger |
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TO A METHODIST PARSON AFTER HEARING HE HAD SPOKEN VERY ROUGHLY IN MY BELIEF OF GHOSTS &C |
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 | The early poems of John Clare |  |
TO A METHODIST PARSON AFTER HEARING HE HAD SPOKEN VERY ROUGHLY IN MY BELIEF OF GHOSTS &C
Kind sir your reasons may be just
That ghosts & whitches dont exist
& ye may smile wi some disgust
Cause they decieve
Smile on a fool & be I must
Tales to believe
That ghosts & whitches dont exist
& ye may smile wi some disgust
Cause they decieve
Smile on a fool & be I must
Tales to believe
86
An unbeliever like a many
I once days gone fell out wi granny
My carless talk most turnd her scranny
Wi dread & fear
Till told the like o' h'r sister nanney
Which you shall hear
I once days gone fell out wi granny
My carless talk most turnd her scranny
Wi dread & fear
Till told the like o' h'r sister nanney
Which you shall hear
One who when told of ghosts & witches
Woud call em lanthorn jaws & bitches
& swore all ghosts where things that such as
Fools only spy
L---d keep such out laws from their clutches
Wi gran pray I
Woud call em lanthorn jaws & bitches
& swore all ghosts where things that such as
Fools only spy
L---d keep such out laws from their clutches
Wi gran pray I
She sir woud gloried in your notion
Of reasons courage shed a portion
& she coud better stan to caution
Then gran or I
Reason wi me's days breeze in motion
Which night bids dye
Of reasons courage shed a portion
& she coud better stan to caution
Then gran or I
Reason wi me's days breeze in motion
Which night bids dye
& now to tell the promisd story
Which granny telld for truth before me
Bout what stopt cousins reasoning glory
Ghosts to deny
& sure when grannys head was hoary
She woudnt lye
Which granny telld for truth before me
Bout what stopt cousins reasoning glory
Ghosts to deny
& sure when grannys head was hoary
She woudnt lye
Twas just at eve when creeple creep
The sun slives to his latest peep
& night glowers round him black & deep
To take his place
When far from home wi carless slip
Was nanneys case
The sun slives to his latest peep
& night glowers round him black & deep
To take his place
When far from home wi carless slip
Was nanneys case
87
Longer at market she might dwell
Her butter & her eggs to sell
Or sweet hearts in her journey fell
Whats not exprest
The outside facts I only tell
Ye guess the rest
Her butter & her eggs to sell
Or sweet hearts in her journey fell
Whats not exprest
The outside facts I only tell
Ye guess the rest
Tho ye may mutter save the trouble
& think my tale a hubble bubble
How nan wer drunk & might see double
Feth Sir yr wrong
Tho low & weak my muse may grubble
Truth guides her song
& think my tale a hubble bubble
How nan wer drunk & might see double
Feth Sir yr wrong
Tho low & weak my muse may grubble
Truth guides her song
Down lanes where spirits often stood
Nan hobbld down in carless mood
When out bolts som thing from the wood
& usd her ill
Still she might make her story good
As many will
Nan hobbld down in carless mood
When out bolts som thing from the wood
& usd her ill
Still she might make her story good
As many will
Else she declard when home she got
Shed oath her very conscence fort
That she coud show the very spot
She scapt its clutch
Nor where the wreek of boiling pot
More hot then's touch
Shed oath her very conscence fort
That she coud show the very spot
She scapt its clutch
Nor where the wreek of boiling pot
More hot then's touch
How ere to end Sir further cavel
She actual ownd it was the devil
But what upon his skulking travel
He went about
Twoud give poor virtues heart the gravel
To bolt it out
She actual ownd it was the devil
But what upon his skulking travel
He went about
Twoud give poor virtues heart the gravel
To bolt it out
However gainst whats lovd of course
Folks special ‘maids’ use little force
So if twas nick by grans discourse
He had his will
& thanks gran sed it were no worse
He didnt kill
Folks special ‘maids’ use little force
88
He had his will
& thanks gran sed it were no worse
He didnt kill
At length her health began to fag
As wells her reason luckless brag
& like new beer in bursting cag
She gun to swell
Poor granny thought shed turnd a hag
Blown up wi hell
As wells her reason luckless brag
& like new beer in bursting cag
She gun to swell
Poor granny thought shed turnd a hag
Blown up wi hell
But year had notchd nine months or scarce on
Ere imp wer born by grans discoursing
Nor think your trade I make a farce on
To prove odd rot it
Old nick disguisd like meth'dis' parson
The night he got it
Ere imp wer born by grans discoursing
Nor think your trade I make a farce on
To prove odd rot it
Old nick disguisd like meth'dis' parson
The night he got it
| The early poems of John Clare | |