Building the Stonehenge Bypass
The druids shake heads and complain of the youth
and the ‘lack of respect they show to the Gods’.
These days it appears they’ve forgotten the truth
and look south to Rome as the place to applaud.
Attendance at Solstice drops further each year:
old faces comprise congregations.
Teenagers pass shrines to taunt and to sneer
on the way from the pubs to the chariot stations.
Latin replaces the pure Celtic tongue.
Tradition erodes like Woodhenge in the mist.
Where clear thought and prayer led to wars being won
the young are relying on spear and on fist.
Graffiti adorns the stones. What a waste!
Someone has pissed on the altar itself.
This new generation is turning its face
to the lure of cheap wine and imperial wealth.
‘Nothing is sacred in these faithless days’,
moan the bearded and wise to their flock.
‘Our children abandon the long cherished ways
and no longer seek answers in rock.’
But the elders will laugh last, and longer,
as the Roman ways crumble and fade:
our children will gaze on in wonder
dumbstruck at the beauty they made.
CB Donald