THE BESOM-MAN

Did you see Paidin,

Paidin, the besom-man,

Last night as you came by

Over the mountain?

A barth of new heather

He bore on his shoulder,

And a bundle of whitlow-grass

Under his oxter.

I spied him as he passed

Beyond the carn head,

But no eye saw him

At the hill foot after.

What has come over him?

The women are saying.

What can have crossed

Paidin, the besom-man?

The bogholes he knew

As the curlews know them,

And the rabbits’ pads,

And the derelict quarries.

He was humming a tune —

The “Enchanted Valley” —

As he passed me westward

Beyond the carn.

I stood and I listened,

For his singing was strange:

It rang in my ears

The long night after.

What has come over

Paidin, the besom-man?

What can have crossed him?

The women keep saying.

They talk of the fairies —

And, God forgive me,

Paidin knew them

Like his prayers!

Will you fetch word

Up to the cross-roads

If you see track of him,

Living or dead?

The boys are loafing

Without game or caper;

And the dark piper

Is gone home with the birds.