Dedicated to John Purser and John Kenny
by David James Ross
They had gouged its eyes out
And torn out its brash tongue,
So when earth-mother parted wet lips
To receive their gift, all was silence.
Centuries passed, then in silence
The circle witnessed its rebirth,
Its bristled head, bog-swaddled,
Wide-eyed, mutely gasping for air.
In a mixture of awe and disgust,
The minister recorded its form,
Wondered about its heathen roots,
Before in silence they bore it away.
But now in a cave, dark as wet peat,
It fills its ancient lungs once more
And resumes roaring, snorting,
Bogling its primordial song.