The Pannier Man

T’was on the autumn road, I first saw him

He looked through me without a care

The task that he knew was to make a way through

Where others would not dare

And with the lamp of the moon be paced

With nothing more than his fiery torch

I saw the ghost of the Pannier Man

Walk by the derelict churchyard porch

My heart leapt at his blood red face

And the stare of his firm intent

I saw the Pannier Man go walking

Utterly content.

Pitish-Cristi 1842-1901

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