There Was A Monk From Kirkstall Abbey Poem by Catherine Casey

There was a monk from Kirkstall Abbey
Just a row from Newly Lane,
Long before the old canal
When the boats would take the strain.


Chorus

And he always saved his broadest grin
For Tuesday nights at the local inn.
With many a toast and many a sing
And his name was Brother Tim.
And his name was Brother Tim.


It was a long haul from the quarry
Twenty tons the biggest one.
Taken vows of charity.
Crumbs and vespers when he'd done.


It was a century of fasting
And a scratching off the land.
River Aire as motorway
Making windows stained and grand.


He was a monk of simple leaning
And he's spanning now the time.
Joining our activity
Asking 'Am I next in line? '


So if you ever see his spirit
In his robes of misty form,
Searching for his rosary
Then please send him home for dawn.