The haunted radish

The churchwarden's wife, in condition was said

To beg of her husband, to make her a bed

With an harvest of radish, too early in spring

When other town folk, would not see such a thing

'Dear Ann' he replied, 'Shall be done in a trice'

With soil from the graves, that I feel shall be nice

I shall dig it at midnight, for fear of the clowns

That may vex me and tease me, with most terrible frowns

So the seeds that he brought, became seeds that he sowed

And within a short time, several radish he grow'd

And the scores of the table, were very soon brought

And his Madam selected, the finest she thought

So with mouth wide open, and taste did regale

The radish screamed out, 'Please don't bite off my tail'

'The top of my legs, and arms I bewail,

But Please Madame Ann, 'don't dare bite off my tail'

To the sextons house go, and the rest of me lie

I beg of you please, that my tail be near by

Then the radish stopped speaking, and it vanished from sight

leaving the warden and wife, near half dead by the fright

The soil was returned, and the souls laid to to rest

And the church warden hailed,  'To be honest is best'

Information

This poem is loosely based around a churchyard legend from Leek in the Staffordshire moorlands. It tells of a Church warden called Robert Emerson who was accused of using soil from the graveyard as compost to grow vegetables for his wife Ann.

Unfortunately for the unlucky couple the finest radish of the crop was haunted by the soul of the deceased from where it was taken, and it was said to have spoken out and plea for it to be re-buried from where it had been taken from. This tale was apparently written down by either Eli Cope or Alfred Fynney shortly after his death at the age of 56 in 1820. The gravestone can be seen in the graveyard of St Edwards in Leek.

It is to be included in my new book North staffs legends