Down in a bosky dingle where the water sprites cavort
I spied me dear old Captain, and to him I did report.

He smacked me in me middle as he moaned a strange halloo,
'''Twas in the heat of battle I last clapped me eyes on you."

The Captain led our pikemens' charge at Naseby on that day,
And now I looked right through him where a pole had drilled its way.

And there behind the Captain I could see the boys at ease,
Sprawled out upon the dingle with the sprites upon their knees.

They was smilin' and a laughin' like they'd had a tot 0' gin.
I could see the grass and flowers through their jerkins and their skin.

The pike staffs lay upon the ground all shattered, stained and red,
The forward lines had borne the brunt. Each man of them was dead.

"Oh, Captain, tell me truly now, how did the battle go?"
"Our pikemen were advancing, our stout oak against the foe.

We ran them through, as they did us, aye, 'twas a gory end,
For in the midst of battle, lad, ye can't tell foe from friend.

We're as you see us now, me lad, 'tis well you ran away,
We're all doomed to this dingle. Here we'll stay 'til Judgement Day."

My own heart stopped! "Twas then I joined the Captain and the boys,
Forever we must fight again through battle heat and noise.

Come midnight now upon that field, though time the mists have aged,
There's none dare visit Naseby where the bloody battle raged.

For on the stroke of midnight all the captains rouse their men,
They seize their bloody pikestaffs and they form up once again.

Their ghostly faces rise like moons upon the ancient fields,
Their maddened eyes are red and wild, they fling away their shields.

With pikes flung down they set upon their foes with rusty blades,
And woe betide the stranger wandering in these bloody glades.

Though Naseby's fight was long ago, 'tis still a haunted place,
My coward soul, the captains, and the pikemen, wait for grace.

(Battle of Naseby, 1645)

Lola Latreille
Rochester, MI