Lessons learned while reading the ballad collection of Francis James Child.
by David Kessler
In my youth I was something of a town hero for my strength and my
skill with a sword. You may even have heard of me - Old Bangrum. I have many
stories of those glorious times and I often regale the younger generation with them. If
I exaggerate somewhat, it's only the license of a proud man a little past his prime. If
they see me as an iron fighter with unshakable nerves, that's because my oratory is as powerful
as my right arm once was.
Recently, several local youths were wounded
and one was killed, while on a boar hunt. Well, the story got blown out of all
proportion and now the boar is so fierce that they want me to take my sword and pistol and
hunt it. They say that in its lair are the bones of a thousand men. This is
obviously an exaggeration of its fierceness, but at my age any reasonably stout boar would
skewer me in a moment.
What am I to do? Help me.
Don't want to be gored
Dear Don't want to be gored,
Call it poetic justice; either fight the boar, or chicken out.
Francis J. Child