Rough music for her passing

Ran Tan Tan

Ran Tan Tan

I will bang my pots and pans

on Ludgate Hill,

by Bridie’s Well,

the day she makes her trip to Hell.

 

Flag-covered gun carriage

crosses cobbles, carries

She who

hobbled a nation.

The Fleet’s the Styx,

the streets the bones,

feet kick up stones.

Backs are turned away from

a lady not for turning,

remembering is not mourning.

 

Ran Tan Tan

Ran Tan Tan

I will bang my pots and pans

on Ludgate Hill,

by Bridie’s Well,

the day she makes her trip to Hell.

 

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