The Hart Midsummer Fair

‘Just where do you think you’re going, girl

With those ribbons in your hair?’

‘I’m off to the world of Make Believe

To the Hart Midsummer Fair.

They say there’s a Magical Fairy Ring

Where the maids dance round a pole,

Where the step of a dainty pair of feet

Can win you a pot of gold.’

 

‘There’s Lords and Ladies and Dukes and Kings

Come down from the Castle Kragg,

Wearing their Crowns and jewels and rings

And they roast a new killed Stag,

There are clowns and jugglers, Gypsy bands

And the Phantom Fiddler’s there,

Playing an ancient Irish jig

At the Hart Midsummer Fair.’

 

‘The gentlemen from the town come down

All dressed in their best array,

Looking to win a country maid

To hang off their arm that day.

And those as willing, the auctioneer

Takes maids from the countryside,

Bangs his gavel and calls the odds

For the sale of a country bride.’

 

‘I’ll not have you at the County fair,

You can stay at the farm by me,

We’ve been affianced for over a year

And wed in a year, we’ll see!’

‘I’ve waited long for your promise to wed

But nothing has come about,

I’ll not be wed to an Ostler, when

A gentleman calls me out.’

 

He locked the maid in the pantry, so

She wouldn’t get out that day,

But she slipped the lock, and changed her dress

And managed to get away.

She went the way of the hidden lane

On the old grey dappled mare,

And rode on over the hills to find

The Hart Midsummer Fair.

 

She was late for the clowns and jugglers

She was late for the Fairy Ring,

She wasn’t too late for the auctioneer

Who told her to come right in.

She couldn’t see who was bidding for her

But she took it with a smile,

It must have been some fine gentleman

For the bidding was done in style.

 

‘Four pounds I’m bid, for this comely wench,

Four guineas to you out there,’

Another pound brought his gavel down

‘I believe that you’ve won her, sir!’

They tied a blindfold over her eyes

And her wrists were bound with cords,

She had to walk for a dozen miles

Tethered behind a horse.

 

The horse’s hooves had a hollow ring

As they hit the cobblestones,

The walls were damp and the air was filled

With a smell like drying bones.

Her ‘gentleman’ took the blindfold off

And her knees began to sag,

She’d sold herself to the Pantler of

The household, Castle Kragg.

 

The Pantler, so very old and grey

With a blind, white staring eye,

He said that she’d be the scullery maid

There were pots and pans to dry,

There wasn’t a single window in

The kitchen, down below,

She thrust the money he’d paid for her

And she begged him, let her go.

 

‘That’s not enough,’ said the wily serf,

‘To free you from these grounds,

If you want to purchase your liberty

It will cost you twenty pounds.

Your value is in the work you’ll do

Both here, and under the stairs,

If you pay your shilling a week to me

It will take you seven years!’

 

That night she slept on a pile of sacks

And she thrust the man away,

She said, ‘You’re not going to touch me

For as long as you make me pay!’

But late that night in the pale moonlight

A horse’s hooves were heard,

And a shadow crept to her bedside,

Whispered, ‘Don’t say a single word!’

 

He led her up to the courtyard where

There stood the dapple grey,

Hoisted her up behind him, spurred

The horse, ‘Now let’s away!’

She clung on tight to the Ostler she

Had spurned, without a care,

And laughed when they crested the hillside

As the breeze blew through her hair.

 

The banns went up the following day

They were married in the fall,

She said, ‘I finally got my way,’

And he answered, ‘Not at all!

‘You only married an Ostler, not

The Pantler under the stair.’

‘An Ostler’s all that I wanted since

The Hart Midsummer Fair!’

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[OTownPete]

This is another wonderful example of your storytelling ability and you skill at making the reader feel that he is wandering through the milling crowd and all of his senses are tickled. Thanks for sending this one to me. I realize you have published "books" and I offer up my congrats...I have only one book that was published in March 2006 (434 pages of poetry from my hand). Your friend in words, Pete

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

You always take me to lands far away with a language all your own,
and I am blithely led away by your melodious, dulcet tone.

Don't you get tired of being so wonderful at what you do????? :-)

[TL Boehm]

be careful what you wish for - how we are so impetuous as young things and it gets us into all kinds of trouble. Who wouldn't want to run off to the fair? loved this story of consequence and lessons learned

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Great story. :-) guess she ended up marrying the ostler

[wordwarrior]

Yes David, brilliant as always. Your storytelling in poetry just rivets me all the way through and all the words dance across the page and in my mind the images are clear as if I was really there. Not that's the mark of an awesome storyteller.
Such a wonderful skill you have and thanks so much for the RR.
Always love a happy ending! You made me smile reading this

[emmajoy]

Brilliant, as ever! Your wording really does take the reader back more than a dozen years, and your meter, as ever is superb. More than that you bounce through a tale in such a graphic way that eyes see and ears hear! Love it, David, truly do.

'‘The gentlemen from the town come down ~ All dressed in their best array, ~ Looking to win a country maid ~ To hang off their arm that day. ~ And those as willing, the auctioneer ~ Takes maids from the countryside, ~ Bangs his gavel and calls the odds ~ For the sale of a country bride.’

[Marie]

Silly girl. I hope she was content with the Ostler, whom she didn't deserve, and never went galivanting off again.

[Raya]

The scene of the fair was so vivid. Wonderful story, amazing that you can convey the story in limited rhyme and rhythm choices. Well done.

[TrimarcoRansome]

I could hear the lutes playing in the fairground! Just wonderful stories you come up with! You never cease to amaze me..This did make me chuckle too!