I walk, this day, this haunted land
(Not far off, Mancunian city walls)
\'Neath my feet sprawls peaty sand ~
Overhead as evening falls,
The ghostly voice of children\'s calls.
This land, taciturn, calm and still,
A sombre place to garner thought;
A meditation of past ill ~
All the anguish time has brought ~
The mighty horrors, ever fraught.
Evoking days of deadly deeds,
Wicked sins of heretofore;
The ghostly voice of innocence pleads
You salute what happened, evermore,
Here in nineteen sixty four.
Infant souls, half concealed,
Ne\'er forgotten over time;
Three were found below this field
Buried under peat and lime ~
Reposing \'midst the moorland grime.
He walks, this day, this haunted land
(Not far off, Mancunia\'s city near)
He romps with others hand in hand ~
But spare a thought and weep a tear
For a lonely boy who still lies here.
ASJ