Mark Temple

My uncle, Fred Shaw, was a close friend of the noted local archaeologist Ethel Rudkin when she surveyed Brickfields Farm in of East Keal back in the 1960s. She shared several old local legends, including some about mysterious animals seen in various locations. I was reminded of this when I wrote the attached poem.

This poem is a retelling of an old legend about a mysterious creature that was supposed to haunt the fens, near Coningsby. The story was brought to my attention back in 2005, when a journalist rediscovered The Fen Country (1926) by the local archaeologist Christopher Marlowe, who recounted how he and his friend (Jones) had discovered a skeleton of what he described as a ‘half-wolf half-man’ creature buried in the peat bog close to where they lived in Langrick Fen. He took the corpse back to his cottage and was later awoken by the head of a large wolf looking at him through the window.

The Werewolf of Dogdyke

Ev you ‘eard o’ the Werewolf o’ Dogdyke?
It’ll be news to you, I’ve noa doubt.
Some creature of legend you’re thinking
And noat to get fretted about.

Now many folk gab about werewolves.
‘It’s mere superstition,’ they say
But I knowed of an ode boy who seen one,
I’ll tell yer his tale, if I may.

Way back in the twenties it ‘appened
Some scientist feller called Jones
Was delvin’ in Langrick Fen peat bog
When he dug up some very queer bones.

He carried ’em back to his kitchin
And scrubbed ’em, to see what he’d found.
Yon skeleton looked pretty human
But the ‘ead was the skull of an ‘ound!

It rattled t’ode chap for a moment
He thought that it must be a hoax.
P’raps travelling fair-foak had left it
To put the wind up local folks.

He was supping the dregs of his ‘orlicks
Whilst sorting the bones on the floar.
Summat out on the causey was scratting
And lifting the sneck o’ the door.

The noise from the causey alarmed ‘im
What on earth could be maakin’ the din?
He decided to peer through the winder
To see who was trying to git in.

For there i’ the glow of the moonlight
A glimpse o’ a figure he caught
A creature in black and all crooked
‘Ahh, that’ll be parson,’ he thought.

Then a ‘ideous face manifested,
The face o’ some creature from hell.
Jones ran to the petty and bolted the door
I suspect ‘e were feeling unwell.

Whilst the snarling and clawing continued
He lay back, far-weltered and frit.
He weren’t gonna argle wi’ werewolf
‘e’d leave him to cool down a bit.

When dawn came, Jones felt a bit better
He listened for sound o’ the beast.
‘Perhaps he’s calmed down and gone home now’
Though he wasn’t convinced in the least.

Then he stopped and was feeling reet flummuxed
Cus yon beast was in such a bad mood.
P’raps werewolf were just a bit hungry
And all that he wanted was food.

He decided to make ‘im some breakfast
Some cheese and plum loaf ‘ud be fine.
If only he’d been here last Sunday
He might ev enjoyed stuffed chine.

He unbolted the door of the lavvy
Wi’ his stick he approached kitchin’ door.
Now what if the beast were still in there
If he was, well ‘e’d give him what for.

With ‘is hand on the sneck he just waited
And then in he bu’st at a pace
But there wasn’t noa beast to be found theer
Just glass, smithered, ower the place.

I can’t say ‘e felt disappointed
That the beast had returned whence ‘ed came
But his paintwork ‘ud need touching up now
And ‘e’d only got ‘issen to blame.

So straightway he gathered the bones up
And returnin’ ’em back to the fen
He hoped that the beast ‘ud forgive him
And not damage his paintwork agen.

So, if iver you’re passing through Dogdyke
And walking yer dog on yer own
Doan’t let ‘im slowpe off into peat bog
He just maet cum on back wi’ a bone!

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Mark Temple was brought up in Coningsby. He now lives in Leicestershire. He has written several articles for the Lincolnshire Poacher magazine relating to Lincolnshire local stories, and several poems.

There is a Lincolnshire folk Tales Project blog post about this here.