The Staggers

An old man walked a sheep run

skirling at the dawn

his mouth agape with thorn heads

his red eyes sunk and drawn.

The birds stopped their singing

the cattle chewed the crud

as he fell into the stink pit

and lay within the mud.

‘What’s wrong ?’ I said, clear and loud

‘Where would you rather be ?’

He wiped a tear and cursed the sky:

‘It’s The Staggers that’s gone ‘n’ got me!

The Staggers did me father

and his old dad before -

now I’m the one to suffer

nature’s uncommon law.’

‘Here’ I said ‘I’ll pull you out

as brisk as brisk can be

then wipe you down with dock leaves

to soothe your misery!’

He said no need, it was too late

his fate was sealed and done -

‘Once The Staggers has got ‘ee

there’s no where else to run’

So I left him in the mulch

to mourn his final days

and reached the crest of the

oldest hill to satisfy my gaze

‘Will ‘ee stay up there and watch ?’

he shouted ‘for as long as long can be ?’

I said I would for I was sure

The Staggers would soon take me.