On this side of the bridge, Between time and eternity, A foothill to the Necropolis, Rises the cathedral. The remains of St. Kentigern Maintain it, the founding Father. The spire tops the cruciform Pointing the way to Glorify. Within, walls are embedded With plagues, standards and swords, Praising foreign campaigns And distant expeditions Of long lost brave hearts. Pilgrims stand silently; Tourists nod quietly, Pointing at remarkable achievements Of Empire, and the young, Beatified on distant lands. The fading banners protest: For this I gave my all, my best. The stones are cold, The windows stained: In the crypt, St. Mungo lies, The foundation of all That died.