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Keeper of The Heads

by David Lindsay

The smell is a fine one;
The death of a traitor
is always sweet
 
I feel the pulse of the cheers
echo through the city
when the mighty fall
or the wretched scum meet their end
 
Then they send the heads to me
Parboiled
Dipped in tar
Beautifully macabre
 
And I get to work
Proudly plying my trade
For there's a colour to my craft
and a heritage I'm proud to continue
 
...

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Sunday 10th April 2016 8:33 am

job selection   London Bridge   severed heads

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