Prevent the people from protesting with a juicy threat
Silence the Sound-Systems with un-holstered guns
Bring out the corpse, let the celebrities come.
Let police choppers circle observing overhead
Pepper spray protesters with the cry She is dead
Put a quarter mile exclusion zone round the streets of St Pauls,
Let the coppers wear black DM’s for that kick in the balls
She was Finchley via Grantham, a bullet-proof vest
She was Finchley via Grantham, a bullet-proof vest
Her twenty hour mantra there is no time to rest
The long days, dark nights, her screech and bitter song
I thought her brutal siege would last forever: I was wrong
The Polling booths are not wanted now: shut down everyone
Close the mines that survived not dismantled by The Sun;
Pour away the whiskey and sweep up the barricades
For nothing good will ever come until her legacy fades.
After W.H.Auden ‘Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone’
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