There’s a crow on the barrow
Saddest of figures in grey
Guardian of the royal grave
Ancient legends say
There’s a moan from upon the hill
Clad in a silvery light
Dweller of a forgotten tomb
Dormant heathen might
Croaking at the autumn sky
An accolade in the wind
Carried to the ones up high

There’s a crow on the barrow
Silently spying into the dark
There’s a crow on the barrow
Secretly scowling into the black autumn night

There’s a present calmness so dense
A bower of eternal peace
Vague shadows in reverence
Like breezes through the trees
Echoes of the ceremony
Flashes of silver and gold
Offerings of beast and slaves
While odes and legends told