An old draped cow with a bony arse lows by the midden heap

a wall eyed ewe with tattered fleece gazes into the poisoned well

and a one-eyed cat yowls an' squalls as he stalks the forsaken night

while a mangy rat with a scabby tail soundly curses all to Hell.

Winters fell upon the 'stead, no gaiety within

no  warmth, no beer or food or cheer

the inglenook stands drear and still

no Yuletide merriment here.

The window shutters swing and groan

 the night winds stalk boldly in

 no door remains to bar the way

to the hovel of Sarah Flynn.

'Tis dark, 'tis grim, 'tis stale within

where a small black candle gutters

 a bent figure slouches at a barren board

and groans and mumbles and mutters.

Black the gown, black the shawl

lost, forsaken and shadow chilled 

silent the feet on the stone flagged floor

silent the black blood spilled.

Touch the shoulder, touch the hand

peer into the empty eyes

ask what's the tale behind the tears

ask the whats, an' wheres, an' whys.

Ask, ask and ask forever more

no story will she tell

for to her grave the widow took

the secret of Mourning Dell.