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.
