A Poem - Wren (2024)

Flutters of tiny wings

Are seen,

Amongst the trees and bushes green,

'Tis a sin to kill a wren they say,

Save in Ireland 

On Saint Stephen's Day.

Saint Stephen

Did the wren betray,

Or so the learned scholars say.

The saint pursued by wicked men,

Gaze drawn in by the

Frolicsome wren.

Drawn in towards his hiding place,

Where hid the saint all full of grace.

The Saint a martyr thus became,

The sons of Ireland lay the blame

Upon the tiny wren, the same

Who made a martyr

So they claim.