Across the moors in evening mist
The keeper drifts by candlelight.
His coat as dark as sodden peat,
His eyes as empty as the stars.
The burning fires around the works
Can’t drown the moans from deep below.
The keeper traces Saturn’s path,
And whispers soft protection prayers.
He walks on by the shattered men.
Unseen his candle flickers on.
Three thousand years and more he’s been
The keeper of the fear beneath.
He looks at Taurus through the mist,
Its horns are hidden, the moans are stilled.