The Green Man's gift is marred by acrid stench of flesh aflame, the hills appalled to find themselves a host to ever-swelling pyres. A mother, helpless witness to her children's deaths, Receives their white-hot bones. Let the carnage end and healing come, to soothe the ravaged land. Let the tender cry of newborn lambs and calves be welcomed without fear, And life resume its constant, fruitful rounds. Our animals are being slaughtered and buried in the ground.
Some people say that it came from overseas.
The footpaths are all closed to our circles of stone. I do not know Let s pray it has gone before next Winter s snow.