The Boy of Highfields Wood

I’m going to tell you a story that I once heard
I’ve never recalled it to a dickey bird
The story is set in Highfields Wood
It was 1960, for now we’ll call the boy Bud

Bud was tall, slender and lean
He was still only just fifteen
He walked daily through the woods to Woodlands
Carrying provisions for his grandma in his hands

He had been stalked almost everyday
Bud loved the woods where he used to play
One day Bud never arrived home
Darkness fell over Highfields and the moon shone on the Dome

The following day whilst walking his dog
A man came across a peculiar log.
The log he had seen appeared to bleed
On further inspection droplets were at slow speed

Looking up between the overhanging trees
The glare of the sun and the warm summer breeze
Something wet falls into his eye
What can this be, falling from the sky?

The dirty things, bloody bird shit.
He rubbed his eye; my God I’ve been hit
Then realising it was not really his blood
Looking up, shielding his eyes from the sun as you would

No, it can’t be, he said as he noticed the soul of a shoe
It seemed be swinging high on the yew
Quickly he tied up his dog to the log on the ground
Whimper, whimper, whimper went the hound

The man climbed the Yew tree as high as he could
What he saw did not look good
Hanging from a thick branch of the tree
Was a sight you should never have to see?

Bud was there, a noose around his throat
Eyes bulging, his face was blue, the man cut the rope
The once suspended body plummeted to the floor
Nothing could have prepared the man as to what he saw

Stuffed deep into Bud’s mouth was Bud’s penis
A truly horrible sight, let’s keep this between us
His trousers absolutely soaked in blood
A story, that may be true, of Highfields woods

So, if you were to venture through there today
Always remember Bud, as you pass that way,
It has been said, that in the early hours, especially in summer,
You can hear the sound of a boy, screaming for his mother.



C. Paul Reynoldson 2007