Play the Man...

I stood at the back of the Oxford crowd

When Latimer was burned,

He stood by Nicholas Ridley who

Was burning, in his turn,

Latimer said to ‘Play the man,’

I know, I heard him shout,

‘We shall light a candle in England

That will never be put out!’

 

I felt the tears stream from my eyes

At such a show of faith,

And cursed the Catholic Mary

For her bloody lack of grace,

The fire burned Ridley’s nether parts

And caused him terrible pain,

They died true martyrs to the faith,

I hoped I’d do the same.

 

I was a lowly pikeman sent

To keep the crowd in line,

But they stood mute in horror at

The hated monarch’s crime,

I stood again as Cranmer placed

His hand into the flame,

To pay for recantations signed

By the hand that was to blame.

 

But Bloody Mary soon was dead,

Elizabeth now reigned,

Religion turned upon its head,

Was Protestant again,

The clergy could recant or pay

Imprisonment for life,

We were sent to hunt recusants

Taking hammer, axe and knife.

 

The stately homes of Catholics

Were searched from roof to floor,

They hid the priests in priest holes, built

In chimneys, rooms and more,

We measured walls to infant squalls,

We shattered brick and stone,

Removed wood panels, floors and doors,

Would not leave them alone.

 

I’d watched the faces of the priests

Who’d seen my kinsmen burn,

Revenge was what I sought, at least

I’d make them beg and squirm,

For hundreds of my people died

With Mary on the throne,

I worked with the pursuivants who

Would make them all atone.

 

A whisper came that Hamley Hall

Was hiding seven priests,

We had it well surrounded so

They couldn’t flee, at least,

Sir Thomas Cheswyn was the squire,

With Anne, his lady wife,

We burst in through the oaken door

At just about midnight.

 

A week we searched and probed and prod,

We tore some walls apart,

We climbed up to the rooftop to

The eaves, to make a start,

Sir Thomas swore, ‘There’s no-one here,

We keep a peaceful scene,

By whose authority do you…’

We answered him, ‘The Queen.’

 

We wouldn’t let him leave that place,

His wife, or servants too,

We questioned them eternally

For they were Catholics too,

‘You set your Papist tyranny

On us, so now you’ll pay,

You’ll either give your bishops up

Or live to rue the day.’

 

But Hamley Hall was massive,

Was a house of forty rooms,

We found a secret passage

But it led us nowhere soon,

We’d almost given up the hunt

When word came through for sure,

There’s seven priests in seven holes,

Make sure you bar the door!’

 

The leader of the pursuivants

Was grim, and cold as ice,

He never said a kindly word,

I saw him smile but twice,

He locked the doors and made us pile

The flooring round the walls,

Then set a flame to Hamley House,

The memory appals.

 

I thought that I was full of hate

Until I heard them scream,

The flames devoured the mansion while

I stood, as in a dream,

And priests leapt from the upper floors

Their garments well ablaze,

But only three got out of there,

The mansion burned for days.

 

And Cheswynd burned inside his house,

His wife and baby scarred,

The servants perished from the fumes

The other priests were charred,

While I, a lowly pikeman thought:

‘What God would seek this fate?

Religion is some twisted thing

When man turns love to hate!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Sheila Kline]

Religion has made more non-believers throughout the ages........how sad it all is when the message is so very simple!
Your stories are gripping! I so enjoy the history you weave into them. The last verse sums your message to be one that most of us are able to relate to. 'Tis not God, it is the man!

[Tarry Franck]

WOW - This flowed so well... didn't want to stop reading but glad I did because the ending was magnificent. Great point you made.

[Adam Lebzo -RonninWarri..]

What a wise message! and what a story!
superb style!

[Mark]

It is such a bizarre perversion of the teachings of the Christ, these Reformations, these Crusades as they've been manifest through the centuries. Doubtlessly among Satan's greatest victories, with tens-or-hundreds of thousands of souls, throughout hundreds of generations, driven in revulsion from the simple and pure love of God, by the hatred and jealousies of Men. So sad....

[Jack...]

Another wonderful, yet frightening tale of days of old. This poem flowed nicely, the meter was true and the ryhming wonderful. Another great one from the master of poetic story-telling.

[Dennis A. Clark]

I like the off-rhymes (or non-perfect rhymes) like "reigned/again."

[Emerald Seas]

Religion has caused more torture and pain than anything. Faith is not confined to religious ideology. Horrible tragedies woven in yet another well crafted verse.

[Valentine]

I have read of these times in European and British countries..our paper had Ireland.[northern] at it again..God is not to blame for these crimes against humanity..it is the human man who intreprets things wrong and always wants the world to spin to his ideas and not God's. Having Jewish blood in my veins and living aChristian life..I am sorry that different sects cannot get along..I have friends of all faiths and also friends with no faith at all..Kathie

[Siren]

Left in the hands of any man, the greatest things become tainted. It's amazing, how the tables always seem to turn. Mmm. Good write. Thanks for sharing.

[Tate Morgan]

What God would seek this fate?

Religion is some twisted thing

When man turns love to hate!’

Dave this one touches a story of truth that both of mankind and his god.I think it is a very good poem . The story may be hundreds of years old.But are we so different now? eautifully told and ministered to the faithful . It seems those who want revenge only want revenge oof they dont have to hear the cries of the women and children. This will treat us top a hoorred tale of our own true past.