As It Was. Poem by PAUL COLVIN

The Necropolis in Glasgow town is a place you’re shown no favour
I stand alone upon its hill with St Mungo as my neighbour
If you lay here, you’ve lived your life and likely lived it well
And you’re wakened every morning still, by the sound of Mungo’s bell.

Diplomats, aristocrats, the clergy and the rich
Are all here now on equal terms, in a coffin in a ditch
Headstones so ornately carved, fluted standing high
And the self indulgent righteous, chose their words before they died.

The merchants and the moguls, shipping wares upon the Clyde
Whilst the Empire’s second city, looked on as poor folk died.
Wealth costs more than riches, for money cannot buy
All the lives of ordinary folk, for a shilling, they would die.

The view they have in death could not be bought today
It’s shameful then, they couldn’t see that beauty in their day.
Golden laden eyelids can make a man so blind
A pound of flesh means nothing when power’s in your mind.

Power, riches, wealth, are borne through exploitation
And the exploited suffered pain, remorse but always degradation
Tears flowed often, many died, on blood stained streets they built,
Whilst their bosses sipped expensive wines to wash away their guilt.

Our ancestry, our heritage, don’t let these fade away,
Our people fought, lived and died and left us, this legacy
A vibrant city, loved by all so never show regret,
Let Glasgow Flourish and let them know, that we will not forget.