Stones they set in earth
A temple to observe
A treasure holds it’s worth
In movements they preserve

This edifice stands still
In a misty shroud afield
Testament of the skill
What tools did they wield

Moon retires, depose the Queen
Sun ascends the ring
Banish night to reign supreme
Arise! The Sun is King

The hunter’s moon has waned
Field and forest were deserted
And those who then remained
Made the lands to farms converted

When the Sun became the measure
By which we mark our time
Into hours of toil or pleasure
And in darkness sleep sublime

We divide our days in hours
Weeks and months and years
Yet now we cower
Before a whole new set of fears

What promise was there granted
Was it all in vain
When those stones were planted
Upon the Wiltshire plain