Oh! Silent stones, in circle round -
Your shadows cast upon the ground,
What mysteries you hold, within your heart,
What tales of days gone by, could you impart.

Awesome and majestic, you stand so upright -
A place of deep feeling on a silent night,
A place of dread, midst your circle there-in,
So quiet, so still, only the movement of night's vermin.

As I stand alone, neath your moon-made shade-
I seem to hear voices chanting, yet I am not afraid -
For it seems to be in place, here 'mongst shadows,
The chanting coming louder, echoing from the old barrows.

The silence falls once more, and all is still,
The wind softly moaning, through these stones on the hill,
I look around me, with a wonder in my heart,
How long is your history, and when did it start?

So many tales have been told, of your days.
Folk-lore has been written, in many changing ways,
But only you, stones of silence, grace and bliss-
Can put a true answer, to tales such as this.