The Roses of Eyam - Beau

The earth beneath the surface dust

Is cold and damp and raw

And, holding but the memories

Of what has gone before,

Can almost be forgiven

For remembering the dream

Of the wall of stones around the homes

Of the villagers of Eyam,

Of the villagers of Eyam.

In August sixteen-sixty-five

Along the cobbled roads,

Between the houses dark and high,

The carriers with their loads

Were leaving for the northern towns

The capital and crown,

And also leaving far behind

The plague of London town,

The plague of London town.

George Vicars was the tailor

To the village life of Eyam,

And to his house a case of clothes

From London town was seen

To be delivered one fine day

In September 'sixty-five,

And never more was tailor Vicars

Ever seen alive,

Ever seen alive.

The scars upon his face and chest

Were many to behold

And, lying by the fevered body

Now so very cold,

The case from London opened wide,

The clothes all neatly hung,

And from the bell upon the church

The knell of death was rung,

The knell of death was rung.

There followed sixty, scarred and bleeding,

Buried in their graves

As Thomas Stanley stood above

And told them «Jesus Saves».

But Stanley was a puritan,

An enemy to heed

To Mompesson (the Anglican

Who held the rectors creed,

Who held the rectors creed).

The differences between the men

That were so very wide

Were shattered by the desperate need

And rudely cast aside.

The forces of the two were joined.

Their words were not in vain.

They told the villagers of Eyam,

«The plague must be contained,

The plague must be contained».

The simple people took their word,

Agreed to stay and die.

They built a wall around the hamlet,

Not so very high,

But high enough that they should know

That though it mean their lives,

The plague must stay behind the wall

With children, friends and wives,

With children, friends and wives.

For six long months the wall did stand

And honest to their word,

The families died.

The Friths and Sydalls

Never more were heard.

The Thornleys, Hancocks, and the Torres,

All buried in the ground.

The Coopers and the Vicars

Never made another sound,

Never made another sound.

The dawn that rang the final bell

Left thirty-three alive

From three-hundred-and-fifty

In September 'sixty-five.

The villagers rebuilt their lives

With those who still remained.

The name of Eyam can still be seen;

The plague had been contained,

The plague had been contained,

The plague had been contained,

The plague had been contained…