Ye owd ludge

Stand tall ye relic of stone hewed, built by craftsman with nowt but hand and eye, thy coins honed as the fish wifes tongue , thy kind face beneath the lichen of time. No longer weathered sorrow shall behold thee, or creeping parasite bite to consume thee, for I have cause to repair thee, for posterity, wonderment, and local surprise.Let me wipe thine eyes so shut so long ,  sling colors of indigo and rainbow within, I dream shaker, flag, oak and hearth , mortice and tenon  the dovetailed draw. So cheer ye up my lonely ludge , sleep together we will one hearty Irish mourn, and all the trinkets and baubles and care once had, again shall you proudly adorn.


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