The Song of the Byland Abbey tiles.

We were fired in the heat of a burning kiln,
Glazed with shining colours
And placed here in majesty,
Positioned carefully to the glory of God
By craftsmen who held us in awe
Respecting our beauty.

We were walked on reverently by men in robes
Who placed beautiful objects around us,
Moved slowly over our shining surfaces,
Mindful of our position,
And surrounded us with strange chants
And flickering light.

We were left helpless when the destroyers came,
Ripping the heart out of our home
And leaving us bereft of fine company.
They cared nothing for our state
Leaving us vulnerable and lonely
Under an open sky.

Yet still we remain to face the idle curiosity
Of those loiterers who come to gawp
At the blistered ruins of a fine ideal.
Worn and broken by the anger of the dark skies,
Insulted by the wanton tread of a hundred dirty feet,
Still we endure.

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