THE QUEER STICK.
A RUSTIC LEGEND.
It was very far off, and a long time ago,
(So perhaps all the story's not true,)
That there once lived a rustic called Billy the Beau,
Who would, "whether his mammy would let him or no,
Go a-wooing" a maiden called Sue.
And Sue was a damsel right pleasant to see,
When her rosy face beam'd with a smile,
As she join'd in the dance, or tripp'd light o'er the lea,
Or sat down to whatever folks then took for tea,
With odd gossip the time to beguile.
Yet they said that, besides her true lover Beau Bill,
She'd already a will of her own;
That's to say, she'd a spirit that sometimes lay still,
But, when roused, the small cottage with uproar, would fill,
And that then she was best let alone.
Be all that as it might, she'd of lovers no lack,
Which much annoy'd Billy the Beau;
For some were coarse fellows, who had a sad knack
At rough practical jokes, such as thumping his back,
Or of treading, perchance, on his toe.
And the tall ones would boast of their strength, and look down,
For Bill was no giant in height,
And then offer to wrestle or jump for a crown;
So though oft, in Sue's presence, he ventured a frown,
He more often went home in a fright.
Still he felt that his heart was as big as the best,
Though his body was not made to match;
So he fretted and lost many hours of his rest,.
And went forth one fine morning, with languor opprest,
Yawning wide as he lifted the latch.
Dull and heavily on then he saunter'd, as though
He'd no duty on earth to fulfil,
Till suddenly some one exclaim'd, "Hip! hallo!
What! is that moping figure young Billy the Beau?"
Then he started, look'd round, and stood still.
But no one could he see, and of course thought it queer
That a voice without body should speak;
So he called out, "Who's that?" and the voice said, "I'm here,
Just behind the grey stone; so, come on, never fear,
I suppose I'm the person you seek."
Then Billy, who'd wander'd unconsciously there,
Recollected that stone mark'd the spot
Where queer goblins and elfins were said to repair,
And old witches convene to fly up in the air,
With their broomsticks, black broth, and what not.
