Old Ragan

Who lives in this black wooden hut?

Old Ragan lives there, all alone;

He cursed a lovely lady once,

Who let her shadow cross his own.

His tongue is a perpetual spring

Of oaths that never cease to drop;

Wouldst hear him swear?  Speak kindly thus,

“Good morning, Ragan”- and then stop.

Sometimes a woman thoughtlessly

Has greeted Ragan in this way;

And she will not forget his look

And language till he dying day.

He throws his fowls their own eggshells,

Feeds them on thrice-boiled leaves of tea;

And dead flies on his window-sill,

He killed when they danced merrily.

A wicked, mean, suspicious man,

He growls to hear an infant’s noise;

He hides behind the walls and trees,

To frighten little girls and boys.

What made old Ragan come to this?

Young men did jeer at him and shout;

So women, children and houseflies

Must bear the old man’s vengeance out.