The Preacher and the Phynnoderee


The preacher was in a merry mood;

The fire was warm, the talk was good,

And he was full of country food

Supplied by Mistress Kearney.

At length he left the hearth so bright

To take his leave and say “Good night !”

And passing through the postern white

Began his homeward journey.


The moon behind a cloud was dim,

The trees stood up like giants grim;

He sang unto himself a hymn,

A rhythmic hymn and cheery.

But when he reached the gloomiest part

He felt a terror at his heart;

And so to canter did he start,

The feeling was so eerie.


Sudden he saw it, a hairy blot

That in the roadway black did squat.

His eyes popped out, his scalp grew hot;

The Presence was Satanic.

It sprawled and would not let him by,

It seemed to roll a wicked eye;

The hedge to climb it was too high;

The preacher knelt in panic.


“O, save me from the Beast !” he cried,

“To be an honest man I’ve tried;

I know my sin is boastful pride,

The cause of all my trouble.”

He oped his eyes and looked again;

The moon came out, he saw more plain;

And what had caused him fear and pain

Was just a heap of rubble.


Mona’s Herald     22.1.63