Upon the opening of Lancaster Castle

A thousand years shut, they’ve opened the jaws

And welcomed you inside

The crisscrossed mesh, the iron maws

Gawp at where so many died.

Frocked  soldiers in Specsavers smile and beam

History sanitised  by State and given to you

A bad death in irons is given a sheen

And a ‘witch’ always comes with a broomstick too.

It’s an Event, it’s history, it’s bank holiday

So there are unicyles against the wall

To see the grizzly bits you need to pay

Whilst Punch plays on through the pouring  rain.

Desperate graffiti and once stern signs

Ironically photoed on your phone

I am happy to see ‘living’ history

But  those who died here were once yours and mine.

They dropped in their cells , they were choked by their neck

The recent still scary and thus ignored

Why hark at someone’s cell who is still alive

When History makes slaves of us all.

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