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The poems on this blog are mostly written on the basis of my historical reading and are intended to be both educational and entertaining.
Recently I have also begun posting some of my work with Anglo-Saxon charms. This work is somewhat speculative and is conducted as an amateur researcher and keen Pagan historian.

Please feel free to use anything on this site as a resource if you think that it may be relevant to your needs.

Saturday, 22 June 2013

Here be Puckers

Introduction

This poem explores four such places including Pucklechurch where king Edmund I was murdered in 946.There are at least 20 places in England who’s names derive from Pucker (OE puca goblin or sprite)

The importance of puckers was on the wane until Shakespeare breathed in new life in ‘A Mid Summer Night’s Dream’. These Wights appeared as large animals (especially hares or rabbits – see the 1950 film ‘Harvey’). Sometimes they were good natured spirits and could be helpful but at other times they could be mischievous and were known to lead folk astray.

Kipling of course was also found of this Wight and was inspired to write Puck of Pook’s Hill. http://www.poetryloverspage.com/poets/kipling/kipling_ind.html

By the way Pookhill is in Sussex and was first recorded in 1350 as Poukehale, from OE pûca + healh nook or corner of land.

Here be Puckers

Old English puca. hobgoblin or sprite,
He leads folk astray, in woodlands at night.
Shakespearian Puck, mischievous puck,
He’ll mess thee about, and bring thee bad luck.

Pucka’s attracted, to spring stream and well,
In glade and fell, thee be under his spell.
Puck can be helpful, and will work away,
But this hobgoblin, can lead thee astray.

Minerva temple, had Roman Ad Fines,
On two Roman roads, Doomsday saw no signs.
This Celtic village, the devil it took,
Was not to be found, in the Doomsday Book.

Saxon Puckeridge, grew up in its place,
But Hertfordshire town, vanished without trace.
This devil’s hill town, escaped Doomsday Book,
Puck led them astray, just where did they look?

Doomsday Pucklechurch, Edmund met his end,
From Leofa the thief, he could not defend.
Bronze age tumulus, air force without flight,
Gloucestershire village, with grim pucka blight.

Northamptonshire Puxley, naughty puck’s glade,
Twice found by Doomsday, but then it did fade.
Though only hamlet, and field now remain,
Two Puxley manors, nearby still pertain.

Sussex Pucan Wylle, eight century known,
Pucka’s well still springs, but now is unknown.
With pooka afoot, things aren’t what they seem,
To lead thee astray, is his impish scheme.

Three spirit nights lead, to mid summers eve,
Hobgoblin’s about, his mischief to weave.
Horse rabbit or goat, this goblin may seem,
He wilt thee deceive, mid summer’s night’s scream.

Copyright Andrew Rea May 2012

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