Three Strangers Doggerel Song

Three strangers come in from the wild
Their feet are wet and bare
They smell of leaves, of muddy sheaves
And the earth breathes in their hair

Now the first wears scarlet bonnet
With spots crusted like cream
One trembling bite and a merry night
And forever more you’ll dream

Now the next is tall and shining
Angel white and sweet of smell
And will take you straight to the final gate
Though it lead to heaven or hell

Now the final one is quiet
Though his foot be swollen round
Though he seems so plain, do not test his fame,
Or sleep ever underground

Three strangers by the pantry door
From soil and field and tree
Never bid them dine, never give them time
Or they’ll stay longer than thee.

© Copyright Debbie Gallagher 2/12/2014 all rights reserved

Nova totius terrarum, sive nova orbis tabula

I think it means A new map of all the lands, or a new map of the world, but my Latin is abysmal. I was passing a house on the hill when I saw it. It was my second attempt to go shopping, the first had been curtailed by a cold blast of Winter 2014 shrivelling my ears. I went back to get my old beret, marched up the road again, and noticed where previously I had been oblivious.

Inside the house, workmen were stripping walls and painting, outside were broken bits of old lintel and door, and a gilded copy of the Blaeu wall map in a frame.

Couldn't believe it was just sitting there, discarded. I picked it up and gestured at one of the workmen, from it to me to the direction I came from. He nodded, smiled at me and hitched his thumb over his shoulder, so that was that.

The original was gifted in 1665 to the Papal Ambassador in Venice. To my eye, it's rather lovely.


Who leaves such things out in the rain? I only hope the workman hasn't been throttled by some desperate map lover yelling, 'What did she look like? Did you see which way she went?'