Classic Poem

“Well, you may believe me or may not believe me;
But 't was this way it was, and the devil may have me
If 't was n't a troll-pack that caught me one night.
We had charge of a furnace in Westerly Moor,
And the night was nigh finished, the clock stood at four,
When the racket began and Peer jumped up in fright.
It crashed round the peaks and it roared in the valley
Like bellowing oxen up yonder,” said Ole.

“They tramped and they stamped from all points of the compass,
And 't was funny, but God! it was trolls made the rumpus.
Like the big church at Bogen they looked, as they rose
Through the trees, which resounded with thunder and thud;
There was crackling and groaning all over the wood,
For the firs were like straws to such lubbers as those.
And Peer he crouched under the root of a tree
And I by a big pile of charcoal,” said he.

“Like the clashing of iron the noise of them rang,
For they 'd arms like steam-hammers, had some of the gang;
And their fists were like rocks that the old giants tumbled;
Some had mouths like a mine-shaft, and added to that,
Some had thatch like the roof of a shed for a hat;
And some sent out fire like a furnace that rumbled;
Some had snouts big as iron steam-cranes in their head,—
By golly! it was a bit scary,” he said.

“They sat round the furnace and roasted huge steaks
Of pig-iron, and made themselves broth out of spikes,
And ate ploughs as we 'd munch upon chicken or lamb.
Then all round the furnace the trolls began dancing
So it looked just like houses and churches a-prancing,
And it sounded like thunder, the clash and the slam.
I 've been down to town and seen many a spree,
But I never saw dance up to that one,” said he.

“And as I lay there like a bundle of clouts,
Came a troll up with one of the ugliest snouts
And sniffed me and turned my poor body around.
‘Look sharp here, look out if you don't smell a rat!
Here 's a bit of old meat,’ said the troll; but with that
Of a sudden the sun had come up with a bound.
‘The sun 's here,’ says I, ‘and the east is all red.’
They snorted and took to their heels then,” he said.

“It was something terrific to hear the hills rumble,
As the pack of them rushed to the north in a jumble
And scurried away all together up north.
Still the huts seemed to fight from the way they were shaking,
For ore-house and coal-house and smithy were quaking,
And as if turning cartwheels, they swayed back and forth.
Yes, trolls hate the sun just as I should fear truly
To lie or to draw the long bow,” finished Ole.