An Ode to Spot Loggins O, unknown man of Bretforton, Who met untimely death, ‘What happened at the well?’ we ask But all we hear is myth. They say your water’s much enchanted, Encircled once then twice then thrice And that your vision may be glimpsed On these dark late-autumn nights. Were you a drover or a grower? Did you fall or get held down? Was it Lambswool you’d been drinking? Or half-blind-Bob that made you drown? You are an unsolved mystery remembered From a misty time of old. We will celebrate your living legend Though your true story remains untold. By Deborah May Spot Loggin Now if you comes to Bretforton A warning take by me Don’t go out at night alone Or ghostly sights you’ll see If you to the churchyard go Take along Joe Moggin Or I won’t be responsible When you finds a spot-loggin’! Loggin lies in the churchyard His grave now overgrown But a lady of the family Walks round the church alone ‘Er yud tucked underneath her arm A-sighin’ and a-soggin’ She used to wear a beauty spot ‘Fore she come a spot loggin’! The mourners are all gathered All clad in ghostly white The corpse, at last, is laid to rest; Oh, ‘tis a fearful sight! They comes from Weston Subedge They’ll set you all a-oggin’ You’ll think as you’ve ‘ad too much beer When you goes out spot loggin’! Here comes the headless coachman The horses gallop on The coach, they says, from Mickleton Comes- but I’ve ‘eard ‘tis wrong! I ‘ears he comes from Littleton And how he likes a noggin The ‘Fleece’ is where he vanishes This curious spot-loggin’! So if you comes to Bretforton When the new moon’s a-glow You’d better put the brimstone out Like the vicars long ago Then fire it with burning coal ‘Fore you goes out a-joggin’ Or when you goes along Church Lane – ‘E’ll ‘ave you, that spot-loggin’! By Bill Pullen 1983, (revised 2001)