Lantern hanging in the trees, <br />Full moon overhead, <br />An orange moon, a bloody moon, <br />As I buried my dead! <br /> <br />She’d been a lover for many a year, <br />A friend so true and brave, <br />But under that bloody moon <br />I slaved to dig her grave. <br /> <br />A long-handled Cornish shovel <br />Digging in the night <br />The lantern swaying in the trees <br />Casting a ghastly light. <br /> <br /> <br />Tears flowed like salty rivers, <br />As I looked up at that moon, <br />I’d rather I’d been howling <br />Than sobbing like a loon. <br /> <br />I dug that grave so deep and wide, <br />As far as I could go, <br />And then I went and fetched her <br />To lay her down below. <br /> <br />I laid her down in that cold earth, <br />And shovelled in the soil, <br />And tears fell upon the sod, <br />As I finished up my toil. <br /> <br />Lantern hanging in the trees, <br />Full moon looks down scowling <br />An orange moon, a bloody moon, <br />I swear I heard it howling! <br /> <br />I placed some stones above her, <br />And marked it with a log, <br />And whispered to her, as oft before, <br />“Lobo. Stay. Good Dog! ” <br /> <br />(7th February 2008)<br /><br />Res John Burman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bloody-moon/
