I wrote this forty years ago, on a dreich (a Scots word meaning, gloomy, wet, dreary weather) day, having recently been saved and with a prayerful sadness about all the lost in the city.
Condemned Houses
Long, sad eyes, in grey stone walls,
Look through the driving rain,
Raindrops cleanse those eyes like tears,
Like tears they wash away the pain.
Inside, the words of those within,
Are of the world around,
And every one is lost in sin,
Which gives the world its saddest sound.
Street upon street and all the same,
Thousands of houses, set in rows,
No people move; oh, what a shame,
Seeing so many gravestones with windows!
David N. (June, 1986)
Condemned Houses
Long, sad eyes, in grey stone walls,
Look through the driving rain,
Raindrops cleanse those eyes like tears,
Like tears they wash away the pain.
Inside, the words of those within,
Are of the world around,
And every one is lost in sin,
Which gives the world its saddest sound.
Street upon street and all the same,
Thousands of houses, set in rows,
No people move; oh, what a shame,
Seeing so many gravestones with windows!
David N. (June, 1986)