They be very fond of scary rhymes down there in Devon. Perhaps the best-known example is that sad song to a familiar melody about Tom Pearce's ancient horse which was borrowed by a disreputable septet to take them on a jaunt to Widdecombe:
So they harnessed and bridled the old grey mare,
All along, down along, out along, lee,
And off they drove to Widdecombe fair,
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney,
Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawke,
Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all,
Old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all.
The poor mare, however, did not survive the escapade, and even to this very day, it is said . . .
When the wind whistles cold on the moor of the night,
Tom Pearce's old mare doth appear gashly (sic) white.
But an even stranger occurrence in that little village of Widecombe-on-the-Mo or on Dartmoor is described in a rhyme inscribed in the porch of the local church. It begins:
A crack of thunder suddenly, with lightning hail and fire, Fell on the Church and tower here, and ran into the Choir.
A sulphurous smell came with it, and the tower was strangely rent; The stones abroad into the air with violence were sent.
The catastrophe took place 360 years ago today, on October 21st, 1638. It was a Sunday, and the local vicar, the Rev George Lyde, had just ascended the pulpit to address his congregation when it became intensely dark. A fearful flash of lightning rent the building, followed by a ball of fire, deafening thunder, and "a loathsome smell like that of brimstone".
The chaos was compounded by the clatter of falling stones and the cries of the injured. When the tornado had passed - for that is what it was - the church had been reduced to ruins, and an estimated 60 people were either dead or injured, hit by falling masonry or burned by lightning with somewhat gruesome consequences.
But there was little doubt in the minds of the local people about the real reason for the tragedy. The landlady of a nearby inn was able to testify that the Devil himself had passed through Widdecombe that day. She knew it was the Devil because he had called for ale, and the drink had sizzled and steamed as it passed down his throat.
The Devil, they said, was seeking a Widdecombe man for some misdemeanour and had hitched his horse to a pinnacle of the church while he threw his victim from the tower. And it was as he untied his horse that all the damage to the church took place.