The Corn Child

He were born in later summer

When the wheat sheafs fly

For they found her near the hayrick

By his infant cry

 

She were laid to rest where rabbits play

And wheat stalks thin

She unwelcome in the churchyard

On account of sin.

 

He were welcomed as the Corn Child

At the Harvest Home.

The ploughman’s daughter nursed him

Who had lost her own.

 

He had no glance off parson

No holy water spell

He laughed aloud at one eyed cat

And feared the loud church bell.

 

When the earth released its waters

And the ploughs were honed

There were men who came to fetch him

And said that he were loaned.

 

He would make the sowing fertile

And the harvest fat.

But he showed such merry spirit

They settled for the cat.

 

He grew to be a ploughman tall

The wickest on the hill

He married Parson’s daughter

And he ploughs the uplands still.

 

Freda Davis 6th Nov 2004