Victorian Country Parson by Lisby. Photo links to Lisby's Photostream page.
The Parson's Awakening
James, the village Parson, was curious to hear
That many a parishioner of fairies possessed fear
A sound and upright Anglican, he knew this to be daft
His flock required guidance and counsel through his craft
At Sunday mass he would begin to set the record straight
To purge these superstitions, he firmly would berate
The common folk would need to cleanse and purify their hearts
Of fairytales, black magic, and other pagan arts
Children, turn your hearts from sin and trust in our Lord’s love
Pray to Christ for mercy! Sing with the angels high above!
Fairies have no relevance in our cosmology
Birds and insects have the wings in Earth’s biology
The villagers sat in the pews and bowed their heads in shame
Their knowledge would not go away, their minds remained the same
They knew the frightful consequence of straying in the night
Too far from their cottages, in forests void of light
From ancient family spirits, were these warnings handed down
Naughty daughters could be trapped, and curious sons might drown
If they ventured much too close to the creatures of the dark
Where wicked elves and naiads, with goblins make their mark
With proper godly forethought, the villagers took heed
To not disturb the fairy realm, traditions have agreed
To live in cautious harmony so all can have a place
In the woods and riverlands that claim the haunted space
The brave and willing Parson decided he must act
These simple-minded folktales from his mission did detract
By example and courageous zeal, he’d show the village folk
That nothing threatened on the land of pine tree, elm and oak
As the moon began to rise, he took to the woods and mist
Most certain that this fairyland too barmy to exist
With nervous playful energy, disdain and disbelief
He called out, fairies…come and play and praise your priestly chief
In moments few, the dazzling lights from every bush and tree
Enveloped the crusader, who had ne’er a chance to flee
Mesmerized and hypnotized, in the mental grip of Fae
James, the stubborn Parson, is still missing to this day
On summer nights, upon the breeze, one still might hear his voice
His wandering spirit, so confused, and questioning his choice
At times it feels like ecstasy, at times it feels like pain
But, no one doubts the simple fact…with the fairies he’ll remain!
***
Theo J. van Joolen©2013
This Poem is inspired by Gary Lippincott's "The Fool"
That many a parishioner of fairies possessed fear
A sound and upright Anglican, he knew this to be daft
His flock required guidance and counsel through his craft
At Sunday mass he would begin to set the record straight
To purge these superstitions, he firmly would berate
The common folk would need to cleanse and purify their hearts
Of fairytales, black magic, and other pagan arts
Children, turn your hearts from sin and trust in our Lord’s love
Pray to Christ for mercy! Sing with the angels high above!
Fairies have no relevance in our cosmology
Birds and insects have the wings in Earth’s biology
The villagers sat in the pews and bowed their heads in shame
Their knowledge would not go away, their minds remained the same
They knew the frightful consequence of straying in the night
Too far from their cottages, in forests void of light
From ancient family spirits, were these warnings handed down
Naughty daughters could be trapped, and curious sons might drown
If they ventured much too close to the creatures of the dark
Where wicked elves and naiads, with goblins make their mark
With proper godly forethought, the villagers took heed
To not disturb the fairy realm, traditions have agreed
To live in cautious harmony so all can have a place
In the woods and riverlands that claim the haunted space
The brave and willing Parson decided he must act
These simple-minded folktales from his mission did detract
By example and courageous zeal, he’d show the village folk
That nothing threatened on the land of pine tree, elm and oak
As the moon began to rise, he took to the woods and mist
Most certain that this fairyland too barmy to exist
With nervous playful energy, disdain and disbelief
He called out, fairies…come and play and praise your priestly chief
In moments few, the dazzling lights from every bush and tree
Enveloped the crusader, who had ne’er a chance to flee
Mesmerized and hypnotized, in the mental grip of Fae
James, the stubborn Parson, is still missing to this day
On summer nights, upon the breeze, one still might hear his voice
His wandering spirit, so confused, and questioning his choice
At times it feels like ecstasy, at times it feels like pain
But, no one doubts the simple fact…with the fairies he’ll remain!
***
Theo J. van Joolen©2013
This Poem is inspired by Gary Lippincott's "The Fool"
"The Fool"©Gary A. Lippincott
ILLUSTRATIONS BY T. H. THOMAS
from BRITISH GOBLINS: Welsh Folklore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions [1880].