The day was cold as the north wind blew,

At the Church I viewed the ancient yew;

Beech, Thorn and Holly left to right,

Primrose on banks within my sight.


Ahead of me the stones of old Monea,

Roofless and haunted to this day,

By those who refuge there did seek;

The strong, the stalwart and the meek.


One hundred troubled souls in all,

From without they heard the call;

Come forth and we will succour give,

To all of you that want to live.


Besieged therein, they weighed their plight

And believed it prudent not to fight;

The great door then was opened wide,

To that murderous band outside.


Those captives then there met their fate,

Just beyond that Castle gate;

Men, women and children, none were spared

By rampant slayers well prepared.


Under tow’ring walls above bog and reed,

Forever recalled that awful deed;

Now a safe eyrie for raven and rook,

Amongst broken stone and sheltered nook.


Monty Alexander 27.3.97

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