Thomas Parker came of a Devonshire strain ;
Here, beneath knots of alders, darkling-.
Splendour of lythrum and pale willow-herb
Imaged within the lucent glass;
Broad-leaved docks, and mint, and mallows,
He reach’d the town, and the requisites bought.
This parcel, moreover, I’d have you take note,
|Thomas Parker’s Version of Events
Presented in Devonshire Dialect
I done mee arrands at the town.
Mee ‘ead wur all ov a zweamy zwim,
|Zo many a weary hour I ‘vared,
Dizzy-eaded, a-tired, and a-skear’d ;
Till I recauver’d zense to dthink
That I warn’t the wuss vor a drap o’ drink,
Moral of the Story:
Without harshly judging this Devonshire yeoman,
It should ne’ertheless be forgotten by no man,
That the sprites who the spirit-king, Alcohol, serve,
Do oft from his path make the way-farer swerve.
Then let all honest swains who would keep the right way,
Beware how they bring themselves under their sway;
For the legs will be prone to take any direction.
When the head is deprived of its power of reflection.
G. G. B. Byron. 1878. Fabellae Mostellariae, London: Hamilton Publishers
In other words, when out on the lash, don’t blame the piskies for what can only be the fault of the wallop you have consumed, especially as now-a-days ‘er indoors no longer believes in the moorland tradition of being ‘Piskie Led’ – ‘Whisky Led’ maybe!