an old marl-hole where rat-bats congregate
bears quiet witness to each hidden sin
not just to what we could not dare to win
by dint of effort and so blame on fate
this is no church for you to desecrate
but a dark place where many lives begin
and those who know will just conceal a grin
for nouns not verbs would seem to conjugate
that was the story when the night turned cold
under a sky as dark as any soul
when all the blame was placed on certain wiles
but others said the cause was merely gold
unwisdom aiming at a pretty goal
that journey will not end for many miles
