(In 1190 the Jews of York were harried into Clifford's Tower where they sought sanctuary from the mob.  The Tower at that time was wooden.  History is unclear whether the mob broke in and killed them, setting the Tower on fire, or whether they did so themselves to affirm their faith.  Until recently York was the subject of an edict of Judaism that any Jew passing York should turn their head away.  York shared this "convention" with the likes of Auschwitz and Babi Yar).

 

For nine hundred years we’ve turned our faces

From wretched York – the gesture marks its shame,

And shunning this greatest of disgraces.

 

The city no longer now embraces

Its son of York – Malebrisse was his name;

The citizens of York turn their faces.

 

He urged them baying with swords and maces,

A screaming mob intent to kill and maim

The brethren – the direst of disgraces.

 

Unique among other English places

Approached on foot, on horseback, or by train,

For nine hundred years we’ve turned our faces.

 

The tower stands where a small child races

And innocently plays their timeless game,

Not knowing this darkest of disgraces.

 

We cheated murder through Jove’s good graces

But chose to die on sword-tip and by flame;

For nine hundred years we’ve turned our faces

Away from York’s greatest of disgraces.