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THE DEER STEALERS

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Malamute saloon…
ROBERT W. SERVICE (1874-1958)

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the pub called the Bald Face Stag
With the ne’er-do-wells of Conisbrough and the miners of Levitt Hagg.
At the back of the inn with a drunken grin sat dangerous Buckskin Bill,
And with him a man called Pricket Jack was joking and drinking his fill.

Neither of them had an honest trade, but they always had money for beer,
Which they got – it was whispered among the folk – by poaching and stealing deer.
Stag Sam was their leader – a big strong man who looked like a troglodyte,
With a face most hair and the steely stare of a lion in a fight.
But he was not there, and they wondered where he could be, as it was so late.
“It’s not like him,” joked a man called Jim, “Perhaps he’s out on a date!”

“What kind of hag, or foul old bag, or mutton dressed as lamb,”
Laughed Pricket Jack (behind his back), “would go out with Stag Sam?”
“If I know him,” said Joker Jim, “the reason he’s not here
Is nothing to do with a female dear, but the other kind of deer!”

“Be she doe or dame, it’s all the same – it’s a terrible night to be out,
And it’s not just the dark and the wind and rain – there’s evil things about!”
’Twas the Conisbrough Leech who made this speech, a wise and respected gent,
So the revellers paused in their revelling and asked him what he meant.
“I heard from the Abbot that one of his men was chased by a monstrous worm,
And that’s why I say it’s wise to stay indoors and be safe from harm.”

“I heard it too, but it is not true,” retorted Buckskin Bill.
“I knew the man, and knew his plan, and knew he had drunk his fill.
He stole some ale then told that tale to cover up the loss,
And even if there is a snake – well, I don’t give a toss!”

The Parish Beadle raised his eyes and shrugged and shook his head.
“Last night I dreamed about a snake that smothered me in bed.”
“But you told me,” said Pricket Jack, “that it was Fat Meg, your wife,
Who rolled on top and would not stop the best ride of her life!”
The shoemaker laughed and said, “That proves it’s no use throwing wobblers.
“For, as we say within the trade, it’s just a load of cobblers.”

When all the laughter had died down, then spoke Judcock the Tanner,
But unlike all the other folk, in a very serious manner:
“I knew that summat wa’ afoot when I sees all the ravens
Flying away from Butterbusk and headin’ for safe havens.
God’s critters have way knowin’ that evil is about;
But I’m just a tanner with a common manner so it’s no use sayin’ owt.”

Then suddenly the door swung wide and into the din and glare
A crowd of women and children came, and the drinkers turned to stare.
“What’s up?” they asked, but the women wept and no-one heard what they said,
Until one bolder and a little older piped up: “Stag Sam is dead!
He was found in a cave with an empty cask of wine and a big fat buck.”
“Dead drunk you mean!” laughed Buckskin Bill, “that man has all the luck!”

But the woman wept and the children wailed till at last the men took heed,
And Picket Jack with a face turned black said, “Who has done the deed?”
“The serpent did it,” the woman said, “the serpent stung him to death,
And coiled around him and broke his ribs and squeezed out all his breath!”
They’ve just brought his body back to his home – ah me! it is so sad! –
And his wife is tearing her hair with grief like a woman who’s going mad.”

“I told you so!” said Judcock the Tanner, “but nobody listens to me!”
“Just shut your face!” said Buckskin Bill, “and be grateful it isn’t thee!”
Then he turned to whisper into the ear of his partner, Pricket Jack:
“There’s a big fat buck left in that cave, and I’m going to bring it back!”
“Be careful!” said Pricket, “You never know, the same might happen to you!”
“It might,” said Bill with a wicked smile, “if fairy tales were true!”

“Let’s drink to the memory of Stag Sam!” said Jack as Bill left the room,
And another round of English Ale did a lot to relieve the gloom.
“He was bad, he was mad, and a bit of a cad, but he never harmed me or you.
And De Warenne, our lord, can easily afford the loss of a deer or two.”
“It’s a pity it was poor Sam that died,” said Joker Jim with a sigh,
“’Cos Peter and Gregory started this, and they are the ones who should die!”
They sat in silence then for a while and stared into their beers,
Each one of them in was deep in thought and wrestling with his fears.
Then the door swung wide and there came inside a little boy who said
Through sobs and moans and harrowing groans, “Come quick, me feyther’s dead!”
It was Bill’s young lad half driven mad with worry, grief and fear,
But their white-faced looks all said the same: “No, ah’m not goin’ there!”
The only man who cared to speak was the man called Judcock the Tanner:
“I warned him, but nobody listens to me!” he said in his common manner.

They had hardly got over the latest shock when the door swung wide again,
And the Smith’s apprentice, Tom, appeared with a face that was full of pain.
His catskin cap hid a head of hair that was cut like a scrubbing brush,
And his leather apron and clothes were a mess because he had come in a rush.

He brought the news that Peter the Delver and Gregory were missing.
They had left Roche Abbey that afternoon and their plan was to go fishing.
It seems they made a monster catch that they thought was a tasty eel,
But was, in fact, the monster snake – and they became the meal!

Judcock the Tanner almost smiled to hear himself proved right
Despite the terrible things that had happened in the course of that fateful night.
He looked at the crowd of Conisbrough folk and spoke these words real slow:
“It’s no use me saying anything, but remember – I told you so!”

Judcock the Tanner had a common manner and none of the education
That Conisbrough Northcliffe School and its like gives to our modern nation.
If he’d had, then the moral of these events he’d have spoken in words of Latin:
And roundly pronounced, “Pede poena claudo,” to the crowd from the chair he sat in,
Then told them it meant, “Retribution is slow, but it’s sure to catch up with the sinner,
As Gregory and Peter found to their cost when the serpent devoured them for dinner.”

© Arthur, 2010. All rights reserved by the author.

The Deer Stealers

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