Tell me o’ ghost of medieval man,

Something of life when you walked this land.

Tilling the soil with a back-breaking hoe,

Seeing only the ground as you watched your life go?

Did you look to The Hall, to their fire and their mead?

“While I drowned in my poverty they wallowed in greed”.

Tell me o’ ghost of medieval man,

Something of life when you walked on their land.

Did you lay down your tools when the sky turned to red?

Stiffly returning to hovel and bed.

Did you sleep on a pallet so close to the floor,

With the mice and a pig on the mud spattered floor?

Did you sleep in the clothes that you’d worked in all day?

“Buried in poverty, there’s no other way”.

Tell me o’ ghost of medieval man,

Something of death when you left this land.

A hole in the clay was your last resting place,

Did they mourn in The Hall as they had you replaced?

What became of the loved ones that wanted you home?

“Driven from that hovel, left to wander and roam,

Treated unjustly, forbidden a say,

They all died in poverty – just a typical day!”

Listen o’ ghost of medieval man,

To a cameo of life since you left this land.

There’ve been too many battles over meadows and fields,

So much blood-letting the scars never heal.

As doctors are working to silence our pain,

Man’s inventing more ways to torture and maim.

And people too proud now to make do and mend,

I, Me, Mine attitudes – grab, borrow and spend.

So I look to the future through tears and with shame,

We’ve forgotten your suffering, your death and your name.

Did we learn from your passing?  It seems not a thing.

Sodom and Gomorrha has a familiar ring.

                                                                                                   ****************************

More poems you might like to read by Charles Moorhen:

Pretty Little Gay:

Pure White Crosses: World War One poem:

Pure White Crosses: The Rock Music Version:

They Made Me Stay Behind: World War One poem:

I Believed You Honourable: World War One poem: