This poem was printed in a local
newspaper at the time of the Feltwell Murder but the photocopy that I was given did not
have the paper's name on it. I will be only to happy to credit the source once it is
Please note that the last few words of the lines of the last verse are
missing! If anyone can supply them I would be very grateful.
Lines by ABRAHAM WARD,
the West Norfolk Poet.
PLOUGHMAN Drove, in Feltwell Fen,
A lonely spot as we all ken;
A neighbour in her cottage home,
This horrid murder there was done.
Susan Wilson was her name,
A livelihood she strived to gain;
Her age it was three-score and ten,
Long did reside in Feltwell Fen.
Charlie Wilson, her husband dear,
He travelled round, both far and near;
He thought one day he would go home
And see his wife there all alone.
When he arrived at the door,
His wife lay murdered on the floor;
In such a dreadful, awful state,
Her head from body separate
The police were sent for then with speed
To find the man who did the deed.
Strong suspicion did arise,
And Nicholls taken with surprise.
He said, "I'm not the guilty man."
"You clear yourself now if you can,
I'm not come here to hear no tale.
And I must take you straight to gaol.
When you arrive there at the dock,
They'll find you guilty there or not;
When young Banham did arise
His statement took them by surprise.
He saw him drag her by the arm,
With shrieks and cries that did alarm,
God knows it's true I say to-day,
He said before he went away
The jury found him guilty, at last,
The learned judge his sentence passed,
You are the man, you can't deny,
And for the same you're doomed to die.
Come all young men a warning take,
Don't cause your parents hearts to break
A Murderer brings on disgrace
To his family and the human race.
Now upon the
Murder - an article by the Robin Woodruff, great grandson of Charles Wilson.