Deconsecrated, inevitably 'haunted'
This ex-Church shorn of dignity
Whose stone is soaked in prayer
Stands forsaken in its field;
A laughing stock among the villagers
Whose descendants walked a weekly pilgrimage
On a well worn path to its open door
Seeking succour and assurances
That hardship would be rewarded
But whose rotted corpses
Are visited but once a generation
By Daredevil schoolchildren
Irreverent spirits on their own pilgrimage
Buoyed by bravado
Nervous of the paranormal
With not a thought for the former Land Lord.