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The Black Cock

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Editor's Notes:
James Bowker
Goblin Tales of Lancashire
W. Swan Sonnenschein & Co., London
1883
England
The Black Cock: satanic omen, dread, and uncanny animal manifestation.
Public Domain (copyright expired)
n/a

The Black Cock

'Ay,' said Old 'Lijah, 'I mind one time when they said th' Owd Lad
hissel appear't i' broad dayleet, an' wir seen bi hunderts o' fowk,
owd an' yung.'

There was a dead silence for a little while as the listeners gathered
nearer the blazing fire, two or three of them getting a little further
away from the door, against which the wind was dashing the snow, and
then 'Lijah resumed: 'When I wir a lad, me an' mi mestur wer ast to a
berryin. Ther wer a deeol o' drink stirrin, th' coffee pot, wi th'
lemon peel hangin aat, gooin abaat fray one side to th' tother fast
enough, and at last o' wer ready, but just as they wer baan to lift
th' coffin a clap o' thunder shuke th' varra glasses o' th' table.

'Th' chaps as hed howd stopped a bit an' lukt raand, but th' deead
chap's feythur shouted, "Come on, lads, or wist be late, an' th'
paason waynt berry;" so they piked off, but no sooner hed they
getten' i' th' street nor a lad i' th' craad cried out, "Heigh, chaps,
luk at th' black cock {34} on th' top o' th' coffin," an' sure enough
theer it wor. One o' th' beerers said directly as they'd enough to
carry wi'out ony passingers, an' up wi' his fist an' knockt it off,
but it wer on ageean in a minit, an one bi' one they o' hed a slap at
it, but every time it wer knockt off back it flew to it' place at th'
deead mon's feet, so at last th' owd mon give th' word of command, an'
off they startit wi' th' looad. Th' craad geet bigger afooar they
reached th' owd country church wheer he hed to be berried, an' th'
fowk geet a throwin stooans at th' black bird, an' hittin it wi'
sticks an' shaatin at it, but it stuck theer like a fixter.

'After a while we reached th' graveyart, an' th' paason come deawn th'
road fray th' church door to meet th' coffin, an' he wer just baan to
start th' service when he see th' bird an' stopped.

'"What han yo' got theere?" he says, lukin varra vext, for he thowt
some marlock wer gooin on. "What han yo' theere, men?"

'Th' owd feythur stepped forrut an' towd him what hed happent, an' as
nooan on 'em could freetun it off it peeark naythur wi' sticks or
stooans or sweearin.

'"It's a strange tale," said th' vicar, "but we moant hev no brids
here! Yo' fowk keep eaut o' th' graveyart nobbut thuse as is invitet
to th' funeral! I'll settle him for yo!" an' so sayin he grabbed howd
o' th' cock, an' walked o'er th' graves wi' it to a place wheer th'
bruk run under th' hedges, an' then he bent deawn o' th' floor an'
dipped th' bird i'th' watter, an' held it theer for abaat a quarter ov
an hour.

'No sooner had he getten up, heawever, nor th' brid flew up eaut o'
th' watter quite unhort, an' hopped o'er th' grass to th' coffin an'
peearkt ageean as if nowt hed happent.

'Th' vicar lukt varra consarnt for a while, an' skrat his yed as he
staret at th' fowk.

'Theer's summat not reet abaat that brid,' he said, 'but that's no
rayson why we shouldn't bury th' deead!' an' he pottert off toart th'
grave, an' th' beerers carriet th' coffin to th' side, an' th' sarvice
wer gone through, wi' th' bird harkenin every word like a Christian.

'Th' chaps then startit o' lowerin th' coffin into th' grave, an' th'
brid still stuck o' th' peeark, an' it wer nobbut when th' hole wer
filled, as it came above graand ageean, an' theer it set on th' maand.

'A craad o' fowk waited abaat an' hung on th' graveyart wo' till th'
edge o' dark, an' then they piket off whoam, for they begun to think
as mebbi it were th' Owd Lad hissel, but a twothree on us stopped till
it wer neet afooar we went after 'em, th' cock sittin theear just th'
same as it hed done i' th' dayleet.

'It were usual i' thuse days to watch th' graves for a few neets, for
ther wer a deeal o' resurrectionin' gooin on i'o' directions, th'
body-snatchers hevin mooar orders than they could attend to; but
though th' deead chap's feythur offert brass an' plenty o' drink an'
meyt to anybody as ud keep a look aat, not one dar do it, an' th'
deead mon wer laft to tek care o' hissel, or for th' brid to mind him.

'Soon after dayleet th' next mornin I went wi' a twothree moor young
chaps to see heaw th' place lukt, an' th' grave hedn't bin brokken
into, but th' brid had flown, and fray that day to this I could never
find aat ayther wheer it coom fray or went to, but I heeart as th'
vicar said it met be th' Owd Lad claimin' his own.'

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