In a quiet Worcestershire village,
Stands an Abbey of a by-gone age.
Once a home to Benedictine Nuns,
The holy order; the silent ones.
A place of peace and grace,
Stanbrook Abbey; a Holy place.
Along the Cloisters; the chapel to reach,
On bended knees to pray and beseech.

It`s a hotel now of grand design,
No more Nuns; no more prayers,
Just passing "footsteps" on the stairs...

By Jim Noond.