It’s all one thing, related all to me.
Long long ago, the English Civil War
Was fought: treachery versus loyalty.
A different outcome, 1644,
And I might not be here to know the score,
Cos my great (times ten or so) grandpa won
Or at least survived, in the ranks of poor
Pikesmen, without too many thanks. Undone,
The lives of the great (times ten) grandchildren
Of those killed childless on the field. Naseby,
Lichfield, Preston, Edge Hill and Marston Moor
Bled, and led, straight to this poem, written
On my laptop in ’07, casually,
So thanks, ancestor, you who were quick on the draw.
Mon 19 Feb 2007
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