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%% Boggart, The
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X:3
T:Boggart, The
R:Folk Song
M:C|
C:Trad
O:England
L:1/8
B:Folk Songs Of Lancashire
N:Mike Harding
K:G
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The Boggart

Come listen to this merry tale of honest Farmer Bell
Who lived within an old farmhouse at top of Moston Dell
He was a farmer bold I ween as ever held a flail
He'd cows and horses, pigs and sheep
And cheese and nut brown ale,
Me lads, cheese and nut brown ale.

For years and years, time out of mind, a quaint mischevious elf
Had made the ancient farmhouse his and there had lodged his self,
He ate the butter, drank the milk and sucked the new laid eggs
The milk churns up the chimblev put and broke the table legs
Me lads, broke the table legs.

Now farmer Bell, he knew full well, though damned if he knew why
The Boggart gainst him bore a grudge and drove him mad well nigh
The doors thev slammed, the timbers creaked, the very house did shake
And pots and pans flew round his yed and on the floor did break
Me lads, on the floor did break.

Twere more than flesh and blood could stand and so thowt Farmer Bell
Said he "I'll flit this haunted house and somewhere else I'll dwell
I am a farmer bold and I will cheat this cunning elf
I'll keep the secret of me plan and leave him to himself
Me lads, leave him to himself."

One morning Farmer Bell put all his things upon a cart
He locked the door and took the reins and whispered "Let us start
We'll leave this Boggart here alone, withouten more ado!"
"Th'art wrong!" a voice called from a churn "I'm flittin' with you too
Me lad, flittin' with you too."


"Nay that th'art not," owd Bell replied and turning to his men,
Said "Get that stuff back off the carts and in the house again!"
Poor Farmer Bell, he passed away, when he'd lived long enough
And now the place where he did dwell is called the Boggart's Clough
Me lads, it's called the Boggart's Clough.