The Battle

Upon the tor of the battlefield
Many a brat did lay,
The oes of many old mothers
Had the banshee keening this day.
The bard sings peace,
But the nations lay in the cwm
Which Christ laid the valleys
With the cromlechs fallen
From the welkin ringing above;
Blood, and hail, and fire mixed
With deadly batteries of sin...
The nations went to war that day
And bran was sifted in peace they say
Not a kernel fell from the bin.