Boggert Hole Clough is one of the many open spaces, created in Victorian times, for recreation and relaxation
in Northern Manchester.
However, parents always warned us about …………….
A fig’ger glimpsed by lamplight
At the darkest hour of night;
Eyes burnin’ feral-green,
Sensed much mo’ than seen.
He’s waitin’ for you, chile,
‘Neath your trundle bed,
An if you slip jes’ once from grace,
He’ll squeeze your pretty haid!
He’s the Boggart-man, he is,
An in darkness do he live —
He lies in wait of naughty babes
An ends their foolish ways.
He delights in terrorizing
He loves to hear you squeal;
An if he’s ‘specially ravenous,
He’ll take you fer his meal!
Remember young Tim Winter,
That wretched li’l sinner?
The Boggart-man done stole him off,
An cut the tongue right out his mouf!
So watch yourself, my young ‘un,
‘Cause the Boggart-man, he sees;
He’ll creep up on you in the night
An end your dirty deeds!
Who was Tim Winter ? Well thats the mystery !