John F. McCullagh
The Ghost Of Richard The Third - Poem by John F. McCullagh
The Ghost of Richard the Third
How bitter it was to be bereft
of Crown and life
in self same breath.
Bitter it was to fall and die
while disloyal Stanley stood idly by.
The arrow lodged close by my spine
as I was pole axed from behind.
A King of England, doubly dead,
stripped naked, on an ass was led.
In Leicester's graveyard I was lain-
The anointed monarch they had slain.
To lie forever in this hole
while Henry wore the crown he stole.
My Queen, my son, both predeceased,
were nobly interred and rest in Peace.
While I, Richard, ignobly lie
near Bosworth field with Greyfriars by.
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