Within these walls of mottled gray
where stones of centuries past relay
the lives of those who dwelled within
and walk their nightly rounds again...
I feel the cold damp hand of sorrow
that retreats apon the 'morrow

But come the eve spirits roam
A Lorded soul in his seated home
whose Lady fair walks the halls
Voices echo on hallowed walls
that bear the arms of royal blood
whose memories flow in a flood
of images of sword and shield
Stalwart hearts that would not yield
to trespassers apon the lands
Who'd dare to challenge
the hand of right and the blessings of God
which graced the souls he gave His nod
T'was this a Knight would swear defend
apon his honour to the end
No fear of hell nor demon's breath
would staid his charge unto death
to obey the oath apon his heart
A vow from which he could not part

Within these walls the tapestries tell
of gentler days when life was well
and good within this rich green realm
And a just Lord tendered his gentle will
In windy whispers they speak of it still..

 

(c) Linda Gayton 2005

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
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