The Somersetshire Wonder, Or. Late Dreadful Judgements which hath happened upon the Family of Mr. Pope, of Wotton, near Glastenbury in the said Country.  
To the Tune of, the Bleeding heart.  
 
 
 

GOOD People all that round about me stand,  
Pray mind the strange afflictions in this Land,  
Such wonders scarce before has ever been,  
In Somersetshire at Wotten they are seen.   

One Mr. Pope, who did at Wotten dwell,  
Near Glastenbury, where thousands can tell,  
The dismal fate which lately did befall,  
Upon the farmer by destroying all.   

Now to begin, if you the truth would know,  
One Sunday Mr. Pope to Church did go,  
his only Son at home he left behind,  
who was to play and other things inclined.   

During Church time this Lad did run about,  
Looking for Hen's nest and to find Eggs out,  
For to boy! Eggs it was his main desire,  
When he came in three Eggs were on the fire.   

one of the same he took and strait did eat,  
Which quickly put the Lad into a sweat,  
And quickly fell to vomiting strange things,  
As bits of Glass, stump Nails and crooked Pins.   

A Pear stuch full of Thorns brought up likewise,  
And now like one bewitched this young Man lies,  
The Farther laid the other two Eggs by,  
Which changed to Nails and Glass immediately.   

Besides this great misfortune there does fall,  
O●t stranger Wonders still among them all,  
A Neighbouring Woman happened to be there  
Who saw this lad depriv; d of all his hair.   

Tho neither hand nor Scissors could she see,  
Yet this lad's hair was clipped immediately.  
And plainly seen to move out of the room,  
So with this fright she fell into a swound.   

There's other strange and various wonders more,  
Stones Day and Night are thrown within the Door,  
And the Windows which the Glass doth break,  
With streaks of blood would make one's heart to ache   

Some stones are cold, and other stones are hot,  
They're crossed with blood but Heavens knows not what,  
They rise out of the Ground and nought is seen,  
To touch them, yet they swiftly do fly in.   

And if they take these stones and throw them out,  
They straigit rebound and make a fearful rout,  
And when the troubled did degin to cease,  
Then more vexatious plagues came on apace.   

For in the Orchard, there the Apple Trees,  
Vhere split from top to bottom with great eass,  
A● to ones sight, for one could scarce turn round,  
But they were split and tumbled to the Ground.   

And while the Son by the Fireside did read,  
Strait up the chimmney something pulled with speed  
The father and the servant scarce I say,  
Can hold the son from being draw away.   

And when the Doors were shut and bolted too,  
they would burst open without more to do,  
Nay locks nor Bars could no ways them secure,  
Tho nothing seen yet open flies a Door.   

None of the Family at night can rest  
But each with some affliction sore oppressed,  
Sometimes the cords are cut and down they fall,  
Sometimes out of the Beds too they are hall'd.   

A Parson near to Wotton coming in,  
Received a deadly blow yet nothing se'en.  
to strike, so strange these stories are and true,  
their Reaping Hooks twisted like to a screw.   

the Son when in a fit did thus delrae,  
Oh Fatuher, of your house take special care,  
Or this same Night by fire 'twill be consumed,  
Your house and Barns will be burnt to the Gound,   

If nothing this Night, i'th' Morning it will be,  
therefore now in the Barn go search and see,  
the Father and a Servant straightways sought,  
And from the Barn they lighted touchwood brount   

For all their care and diligence that Night,  
Their Barn next Morning was in fire light,  
which quckly to the Dwelling house did blow,  
And that by fire was consumed also.   

the Farmer to another house i'th' Town,  
Did go to Dwell when his own was burnt down,  
And as the Son sat by the side,  
Out of his Breeches flames of Fire flyed.   

The Family with all that they could strive,  
Had much ado to save the Boy alive,  
And since this both his Wheat Mows & his Hay,  
By Flames of Fire are consumed away.   

Some Neighbours helping to remove the Wheat,  
The very Sheaves which they removed did sweat,  
With Crimson blood the Ears run truckling down  
Some on their Cloth and likewise on the Ground.   

Thus shall and Oxen, Barns, and Houses there,  
Fie fatal Fire, come from, none knows where,  
Have been consumed and wh●t amuses more  
Blood often dropped at the very Door.   

And thus these dreadful I 〈…〉 still 〈◊〉▪  
Although the Man aloft is q 〈…〉  
Yet d●y nor Night be ●●●●…t qui●●●●…  
Oh, Heavens, Mercy send 〈…〉    

Printed for J. Jackson