"The Hobgobblin of Higgins Hollow" ....Updating the knickerbocker tales in poetry....

The Hobgobblin of Higgins Hollow

The track runs roughly north-northwest from the city of lights and sound.
They say, years back, when the nation was young, it wasn't so hardly found.
A regular stage used to run the route through many a small northern place.
But now you must look so very close, though it stares you right in the face.

The legends say that on a certain site something awful there may transpire.
Hushes tell of coaches left, with some blood-- but with never a driver.
This happened three or four times over the course of many long years,
and the cases all remained unsolved as legends grew with the fears.

Higgins Hollow is the name begat to the place where this occurred.
Used to be houses near and a very nice inn if memory's un-blurred.
Was always under a tall, ancient oak where the carriages were left,
Every time, the disappearances were accompanied by a theft.

Agents and experts from far and near always came and scratched and looked.
But never once did they ever find someone they grabbed and booked.
Not so much as a single track or a foot fall was ever there seen.
Be-like a goblin or ghost had taken the bodies as though they'd never been.

They say an attack only happened when there was money or treasure aboard.
None went alone after the first few times, to guard any such given horde.
But one dark night in late November in the year eighteen and twenty-six,
A brave young lad of military bearing decided to try a few tricks.

He saddled his horse to ride ahead and falsely published an account
that the army was sending a payroll through of importance paramount...
To travel this very same old route, t'wasn't mentioned, but widely whispered
and the driver he chose was armored 'neath cloth and send out in the blizzard.

He arrived on a place ahead of the tree by a winding, circuitous way,
and waited and watched for his stage to come to see if the goblins would play.
Sure enough, after no great time, cranky wheels and shouts were heard,
and the wagon bumped and lurched into view as onward the steeds were spurred.

As it approached the infamous spot 'neath the oak the officer thought he saw movement
high in the branch of the accursed tree so in need of reputation improvement.
Then he shouted loud and the steeds pulled up short as he let rip a shot.
Something black and large tumbled on down landing hard on the very spot.

As officer and driver dismounted and drew close, the thing gave a final sigh
“So you've found me at last,” said the dying thief with his final dying cry.
Gripped tight in the hand, now going limp, was a harpoon of powerful girth.
It rolled from his hand as his spirit passed and stuck in the soft, moist earth.

Looking above, deep in the branches, the torches could barely espy,
a platform of sorts buried in obstruction with a winch attached nearby.
And so all was finally solved, as to how many a good soul there died,
And the whaler thief of Higgins Hollow had finally been laid aside.

(Amity 1-2-17)