Bara Cailín 2: 46 ‘the song of the abattoir’
As the ambulances continued to unload the assembled crowd began to sing.
With a low moan at first, a collective mumbling, the voices of the crowd soon found a common purpose.
Gradually the full range of the human voice found expression on this awful night as father and mother, son and daughter, friend and stranger joined in.
At first the driving rain damped the singing but it wasn’t long before the voices of the gathered triumphed, winning the night as they sang the song of the abattoir.