Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit

Is just a pile of rocks;

It's not a very pretty soight,

Though once it proudly stood uproight

Till felled by seismic shocks.

Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit

Is very, very, old.
From summer's day to winter's noight,
Throughout millennia, its moight

Was wondrous to behold.

Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit,

A Neolithic tomb,
Used to be a sacred soite,

A place for ritual and roite,

Or so we all assume.

Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit,

Saw votive etiquette;

The ancients came by candleloight,

Their hairy hands clasped really toight

Round gifts of stone noisettes.

'Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit,

Accept these granite balls,

Purge us of our piteous ploight,

Ensure our roofs are water-toight,

Protect our wherewithals.'

Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit,

Back in the here-and-now,

We've all resolved to expedoite

Your resurrection - that's in spoite

Of earthquakes, man and plough.

Carwynnen quoit, the Devil's quoit,

We'll deconstruct your piles;

You're going to regain your hoight,

You'll be a source of great deloight

To megalithophiles.

 

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