We‘re here once again, in a circle, sat round
As so often before, at the eve of the day
With barely a movement, and scarcely a sound
Just sitting in chapel, and waiting for Rae
There are people you meet and then maybe forget
The years, they pass by, and folk come and go
But there‘s an Othona legend, and I‘d wage a bet
You‘d never mistake her for some other Joe
I never did meet such a person as you
Okay, you may say that for each such is true
But something about you just pierced me right through
Like some childhood encounter with someone brand—new
You first came to Bradwell before | was born
When Norman, the founder, had total control
I wait as you walk the path pilgrims have worn
In quest of devotion and solace of soul
| recall you were missed, at my very first visit
When a member of staff said that Rae was lost
'If ever a madhouse existed, this is it!'
I concluded, as we set off to search the compost
You make us all laugh with your travelling tales
From Derby to Bradwell via Scotland and Wales
With Mary in tow you know chaos prevails
Miles of trials, tribulations, traumatic travails
Your love unconditional, your kindness so pure
If I were a badger I‘d bless you, for sure
By their fruits shall ye know them, it says in Scripture
May our fondness for you Rae, forever endure
So we‘re here at St. Peter‘s, twiddling our thumbs
With pause for reflection, we let our thoughts stray
Then one of us peers out and says 'Here she comes'
Yes, we‘re sat in that chapel, just waiting for Rae
Inspired by Matthew Dell
(c) Dave Birdseye