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Abbey Tomb
Patricia Beer

I told them not to ring the bells
The night the Vikings came
Out of the sea and passed us by!.
The fog was thick as cream
And in the abbey we stood still
As if our breath might blare
Or pulses rattle if we once
Stopped staring at the door!.

Through the walls and through the fog
We heard them passing by!.
The deafer monks thanked God too soon
And later only I
Could catch the sound of prowling men
Still present in the hills
So everybody else agreed
To ring the abbey bells!.

And even while the final clang
Still snored upon the air,
And while the ringers joked their way
Down round the spiral stair,
Before the spit of fervent prayer
Had dried into the stone
The raiders came back through the fog
And killed us one by one!.

Father Abbot at the altar
Lay back with his knees
Doubled under him, caught napping
In the act of praise!.
Brother John lay unresponsive
In the warming room!.
The spiders came out for the heat
And then the rats for him!.

Under the level of the sheep
Who graze here all the time
We lie now, under tourists' feet
Who in good weather come!.
I told them not to ring the bells,
But centuries of rain
And blustering have made their tombs
Look just as right as mine!.


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