Slaughter Of The Innocent ©
(In Memory Of The Dunblane Massacre, 13 Mar 1996)
John McKay Withey
Wednesday morning, off to school,
Each child their parent's jewel.
Chatting, skipping, carefree all,
Who would guess the evil to fall?
At the big school gates, a cuddle and a kiss,
Leaving their parents to report to Miss.
Off they ran, full of glee,
In the gymnasium later they'd be.
At half past nine their time was near,
Approaching death they couldn't hear.
Suddenly through the doors he burst,
Murder most foul at its worst.
Innocent, tiny, full of joy,
Many massacred by a psychopath's ploy.
No time to run or hide,
Just mouths agape, eyes staring wide.
Seventeen died that fateful day,
Just little souls who loved to play.
As children do when only five,
Full of the joys of being alive.
So let us pray they're in God's care,
Away from a world full of despair.
Still laughing and carefree as they play,
Not knowing the pain we witnessed that day.