Â鶹ԼÅÄ

Explore the Â鶹ԼÅÄ
This page has been archived and is no longer updated. Find out more about page archiving.


Accessibility help
Text only
Â鶹ԼÅÄ Â鶹ԼÅÄpage
Â鶹ԼÅÄ Radio
The ArchersRadio 4

Radio 4 Â鶹ԼÅÄ

Contact Us

Like this page?
Send it to a friend!

Ìý
Latest Synopsis
Listeners
Parodies


The Ancient Midsummer Melody

by Jenny Darling

This Coleridge parody was the winner in the verse section of our Summer Parodies competition, and was originally contributed to the Fantasy Archers topic on The Archers .

It is an ancient farmer and he stoppeth one of three
"By thine agricultural clothing, what hast to do with me?"
The farmer he entreated "please stop and hear my tale
of the loss of my dear daughter, which makes me weep and wail"
The farmer, name-d Aldridge, was as pale and white and wan,
and he staggered to a bale of hay, whereon he sat upon,
His skinny hand was roughened, his eye was bright with fear,
"I must this tale recount to you, I do it every year".
It seemed that in the year 03 the tragedy occurred
and every year at Midsummer this tale it must be heard,
If not recounted in this mind, poor Aldridge he would die
a horrid, nasty, awful death, so tell it he must try.
The strangers gazed upon his face, he trembled as he leaned
towards them on the bale of hay, and told them what he'd gleaned
His daughter Debbie had been snatched by evil Syd the Seed
and taken off to France to sell, her body, if she need.
He had not heard a word in years, til visited by wraith
which came in through his chamber wall to sorely test his faith.
He knelt in fear and scream-ed out "What phantom is this thing
which comes to torment me tonight, on blackened icy wing"?
"I am the ghost of Simon G, I bought some magic seeds
and sowed them in my garden, ate the produce, then I deed!
I know where Debbie is, you fool, and each Midsummers Day
you'll tell this tale to strangers, sitting on a bale of hay.
If you do not recount this tale, my spirit will you kill,
and you will live as wraith, like me, and wander Lakey Hill.
No rest for you, ha ha! ha ha! no lusting any more!
Your precious Jenny Darling will up sticks and bar the door!"
With that the haunted spirit left, and this is what I do
each Midsummer morning I look for folks like you,
I sit them down and tell the tale and leave them feeling ill,
then off I go and farm again, all through the heat and chill.
The strangers looked into his eyes and saw his inner fears
then up they got, and home did trot, for to escape his tears.
So Aldridge wandered through the day, til Midsummers Day was spent,
then donned his Burberry and resumed the life of a country gent.

More parodies - from Agatha Christie to Damon Runyon



<<Back

The Â鶹ԼÅÄ is not responsible for the content of external websites



About the Â鶹ԼÅÄ | Help | Terms of Use | Privacy & Cookies Policy
Ìý