It was relegated to the old root cellar
Dropped in haste in forgotten storage
Where dimmest beam of shafted light
Kept it 'live in yellowed life, weak and twisted
...
Her hair has been shorn
Her face cut and bruised
Her flowing gown torn
The beauty once in her eyes
...
I reached out to touch her
And nothing was there
Her soft warmth
Was missing
...
It was a gash in the forest green
A two track
Run red with clay
Smelling of grass
...
He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
...
The dead don't hear you
While they lay in the grave
...
Soon the country will cry as I do
And their tears will fall like rain
But they won't dance in dry dust
To feed the thirsty green
...