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Archaeology

Swords, stones and bones,
Coins, cloaks and combs,
Potshards and pollen
Are all we have left
Of our forefathers.

The songs that they sang,
The tales that they told
Are heard in no hall.

Writings that were wrought
By the foes that they fought
Tell a false tale.

Brooches in bogs
Tell us the truth.

Swords, stones and bones,
Coins, cloaks and combs,
Potshards and pollen
Are all we have left
Of our forefathers.

© Vivian

Image: © K. Matthews/Yorkshire Museum

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