BIDDY THE BESOM BY PAT DOWING ALLENWOOD MIDDLE
Long ago an old woman went around with besoms, which were a type of broom … a bit like the ones you might think of a witch riding on. She gave them to the farmers’ wives in exchange for bread and milk. She was called ‘Biddy the Besom’. A beggarman went around here long ago and he was called ‘Jack the Skinner.’ Jack Kelly was his real name but he went around looking for old goats. He used to skin them and he sold the skin afterwards.
22
COONAN’S FIELD
This poem is based on true events. When I was a child growing up in Kildare I had to use my imagination a lot as there was not a whole lot do living in the countryside. But when a child’s imagination is combined with a wild and wonderful countryside there is no telling what wonders will be created. We lived next door to an old house owned by the Coonan family. We were always told not to play in the big field next the house but as a child this made it all the more adventurous. I felt it was important to write this poem as when my young daughter asks me what it was like being a child all those years ago, I can always show her this poem.
When I was a kid
Do you know what I did
To avoid all things boring and tragic?
I would step inside my mind
And there I would find
A world full of adventure and magic.
I would play a fantastic game
And nothing would be the same.
A stick for a sword, I would yield
An old bin-lid was my shield
And off I go to fight monsters
In Coonan’s Field.
A great oak tree was my castle;
I’d hop and swing from branch to bough
With a youthful ease that escapes me now.
I’d climb right up to the very top
And nothing in this world
Would make me stop.
Was no place for the faint-hearted to go
For in it you would find monsters big and small.
Each had its own battle call
But the one that I feared most of all
Was the ferocious emperor troll.
He had red bulging eyes,
A fierce pointed nose,
Sharpened teeth,
And serrated claws,
Not to mention
Those terrible snapping jaws.
Avoiding cow dung
And wandering cattle,
I would approach my foe
Poised and ready for battle.
Then I would roar with all my might,
‘Come on Troll, let’s have a fight!’
At last I would face him
With my sword and shield,
Two sworn enemies in Coonan’s Field.
I’d roll, I’d jump, I’d dodge and duck,
Avoiding his killing blows
It was all going well,
Then I ran clean out of luck.
It didn’t take long before
My wellie-boots got stuck.
He came at me, hurling boulders and rocks.
‘Forget about this, I’ll fight him in my socks!’
But then I heard a voice beckoning me;
It was my mother calling …
‘It’s getting late, come in for your tea!’
I stood and looked at my fiendish friend,
Wishing this night would never end
In this wonderful world of pretend.
Well that was a long-long time ago
And so much has changed
As we all know,
But when I feel sad a little bit low
I know there is still a place
In my memory where I can go.
And I think of that little boy
Conquering his own private Troy
With a stick for a sword
An old bin-lid for a shield,
In Coonan’s Field.
COPYRIGHT
First published in 2014
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© Steve Lally, 2014
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