Throwback Thursday: What's at Stake

The baby had survived, and she had saved
The mother, too, with fungus from some bread.
The grateful father, totally enslaved
By common sense, joined those who wished her dead.
Thus finished Mistress Goodweather's last year
Among us. She'd no husband  living to
Speak up for her, and so prevailing fear
(And disregard for those -- all women -- who
Did argue for her preservation) meant
A tow'ring bonfire was erected there
In village center. When the dame had spent
Her time in prison, screaming in the care
Of parsons, she was brought forth for to burn,
But rescued by the goodwives. Some folks learn!

Throwback Thursday: 1666

'Twas early in September, and they'd met
At Colin Cooper's large house in the Lane
Called Pudding. He was in fine form, as yet
One hour into his sermon when a plain
Young woman, in her boredom, let her gaze
Go wandering to yonder window. "Smoke?"
She whispered, but was shushed. "The End of Days
Commenceth soon," cried Cooper. "Those who joke,
Who mock us, will repent in flame and ash!"
He kept on going, as the brethren hung
On ev'ry word. Outside there came a crash,
But they ignored it. E'en as wood smoke stung
Their eyes, they kept on praying, duty bound.
Weeks later, blackened corpses were so found.

Throwback Thursday: What the Shadows Hid

The coach that now approached did bear a man
Who'd soon rule all, but on this cloudy night
No one knew of his destiny (who can,
Save mayhap John Dee?). It is known the fight
Was short; the coachman gave up far too quick,
And Thomas Allen and his partner (who
Had secrets as we'll see) soon had their pick
From Cromwell's purse. Perhaps the haul of loot
'Twas kept them unaware of the patrol
Until poor Tom was nicked. Hind, though, stayed free,
Though won no gain from this adventure. Droll,
Though, was the laughter as hooves thundered. She
Is known to history as John, but names
Don't tell all. She was born Jane. Yes, a dame!