The Killing Fields.

Oh,the Killing Fields of Cumbria
Where cattle used to graze
On the Killing Fields of Cumbria
It's been so many days.

And days turn into weeks,you know,
Will weeks turn into years?
So many shattered lives it's made,
So many anguished tears.

And sheep were on these fields,you know,
Some wandered where they would.
But the hills are silent now,my friend,
We wish we understood


The virus left us all bereft,
We don't know what to do
On the Killing Fields of Cumbria
Who knows,my friend,do you?

And after all the smoke has gone
And all the personnel
We are here,left all alone,
In a living,silent hell.

No lambs run round the fields this year,
The grass has grown knee-high.
Where do we go from here,my friend,
Before you pass on by?

Yes,you can roam just where you will
But we are prisoned here,
Victims of the Killing Fields
Of,once lovely,Cumbria.

Cumbria is beautiful,but the memories are ugly.
Frances Fish.