GreenKnight
New Member
Author's note: the following poem is a collaboration. My elder brother penned the original when he was working as a night watchman on a farm. He gave me a draft to 'tidy up' and I did a bit more to it than anticipated. So the end result you could say is by both of us, though hopefully the spirit of the orginal is still there.
The Watchman
The twilight is descending through the trees at Magpie Farm,
As snow flakes circle earthwards, horses stamp into the warm,
With all the yard a-bustle as they wrestle with each head -
The hussies do the hustle round a mare that won’t be led -
And as the winter’s frozen dark locks down upon them all
A blizzard starts to rattle at the bolts of every stall.
But a home-fire’s burning hot in a peculiar little shack
Where sunk among the memories, rosettes, harnesses and tack
A solitary watchman stokes the flames that flicker bright –
Then, eyes a-twinkle, in she comes, his snowy-haired delight.
She’ll shelter here a while; they share the glowing embers’ heat,
Two hearts from far apart that in a smoky moment meet.
But she is called away to face her journey through the snow,
The watchman sighs, alone again; he has to let her go.
Still through the night he tends the hearth as flakes fall all around
Till at the peep of dawn a silent whiteness wraps the ground.
The watchman warms a horse rug, snuggles deeper, curls up tight,
And by the fading coals pursues his last dream of the night.
The Watchman
The twilight is descending through the trees at Magpie Farm,
As snow flakes circle earthwards, horses stamp into the warm,
With all the yard a-bustle as they wrestle with each head -
The hussies do the hustle round a mare that won’t be led -
And as the winter’s frozen dark locks down upon them all
A blizzard starts to rattle at the bolts of every stall.
But a home-fire’s burning hot in a peculiar little shack
Where sunk among the memories, rosettes, harnesses and tack
A solitary watchman stokes the flames that flicker bright –
Then, eyes a-twinkle, in she comes, his snowy-haired delight.
She’ll shelter here a while; they share the glowing embers’ heat,
Two hearts from far apart that in a smoky moment meet.
But she is called away to face her journey through the snow,
The watchman sighs, alone again; he has to let her go.
Still through the night he tends the hearth as flakes fall all around
Till at the peep of dawn a silent whiteness wraps the ground.
The watchman warms a horse rug, snuggles deeper, curls up tight,
And by the fading coals pursues his last dream of the night.
