Hugo: a cautionary tale

Continuing with my task of versifying a range of artefacts linked to Fairlynch Museum, I remembered the story of Hugo the medieval saltworker.  Two years ago I wrote about him here  when he was featured in our exhibition 'Sea, Salt and Sponges.'   His tragic end was cleverly depicted by local sculptress Angie Harlock Wilkinson, seen above. Here's my version: 

My story is of Otterton

And is a tragedy.

Its time the Middle Ages

In an ancient priory.

For you must know that long ago

The harvesting of salt

Paid even better wages

Than production of malt.   

The Prior was an angry man

And noted for his rage,

And Hugo was his servant,

Not noted as a sage.

For he did like his cider

In quantities profuse

And oftentimes did yield

To the wondrous apple juice.

It happened on a summer’s day

A day of burning sun,

That Hugo in the priory vault

Came seriously undone.

For he did quench the frightful thirst

He had from working for the monk,

From hours of shifting tons of salt,

And made himself blind drunk!

They tried to rouse him from his sleep,

But sadly all in vain.

No ladder could they find and so

Said Hugo was insane.

But craftily he’d hidden it

To drink all on his own.

The prior’s horrid rage did grow;

His servant lay there prone.

They left him there to sleep it off

Until at break of day,

Our Hugo did begin to wish

He’d not been led astray.

But as he put his ladder up

And climbed up to the top,

He met a cask of pickled fish

And fell in with a plop.

And so when prior and monks returned

In hope he’d come around,

They sadly disappointed were

To see poor Hugo drowned.

His awful end had come about

From cider that he’d tasted.

Let’s hope this story will deter

You all from getting wasted.

© Michael Downes 2015