The Ancient Forest will today unfold!
Deep in the forest; a chapel of old.
Going in search of treasures untold?
The sacred and holy Chalice of gold.

A grey misty morn shrouds the old cemetery.
Through the Lychgate; adorned with a cross,
A holy place; offering peace and tranquillity,
Headstones all toppled and covered in moss.

Out of the mist loomed a chapel of old,
Where people once prayed to a cross of gold,
Stained glass windows now all broken,
Where behind once; holy words were spoken.

Sun going down, time to head home,
The forest at night; no place to roam,
The Badger, The Fox; the silent Barn Owl,
Standing quiet still; hear the Wild Boar growl.