Oliver's Head

They ripped his body out of the grave

That had been a National Shrine,

Tipped his statue into the nave

To avenge his terrible crime,

They dragged his body and Ireton’s

On a litter around the town,

Then hung them high on a Tyburn rope

Until the sun went down.

 

It took eight strokes of a royal axe

To take off his hated head,

And then it was spiked at Westminster

To afford the people dread,

They say a terrible storm had struck

On the day that Cromwell died,

And that was the Devil, taking his soul

To burn on the other side!

 

They’d buried him with full honours

To befit a regicide,

Right to the end of the Commonwealth

When his reputation died,

But Charles returned to claim the throne

His father had thrown away,

And first condemned all the regicides

Who were still alive, to pay.

 

To hang and draw and quarter them

For the murder of a King,

But what about the already dead?

He still decreed they’d swing.

They took the main conspirators

And Bradshaw from their graves,

To teach the English people

What the royals did with knaves.

 

The heads were spiked so many years

And grisly, looking down,

That people ceased to notice them

In dear old London Town,

A storm blew up, and it broke the spike

That held aloft the dead,

And spilled it into an alleyway,

The Lord Protector’s head.

 

A sentinel first found it there

And he took the head back home,

Hid it up in the chimney piece

‘Til the hue and cry died down,

It passed from hand to hand for years

As a curiosity,

Was shown in exhibitions and

Museums, constantly.

 

The head that ruled the Commonwealth,

That overcame the Scots,

Was hated in Drogheda for

Three thousand lives it cost,

Was laid to rest, three hundred years

From the time that he had died,

And it lies at last in Cambridge,

The head of a regicide.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

(Beheaded in 1661, Oliver Cromwell’s head

 was finally laid to rest in the Sidney Sussex

 College Chapel, Cambridge, in 1960).

Reviews

[TL Boehm]

Good Lord what a bit of history this is. What is the word for postmortem injuries - often occurring during war time - usually mutilating the body of an enemy...the name escapes me - but they were more common than we "Civilized folk" would like to admit. I was reminded of that as I read this great poem. I so appreciate poetry that inspires one to do a bit of research on the content. Wonderfully done.

[Baby Ricochet]

WOW! That's some poem. I didn't drift off once and I can drift off reading a haiku

[quinfinn]

always with the great and well told stories, David. impressive and amazing!

[Saumya]

this one is again great....!!!!!
very well done..!!! as always...

[A Soap Mess Stories]

Another good story, David!

[Marie]

What a frightful tale. I didn't knowall of this. But I do know that no good comes of disturbing the dead.

[Ravyne Hawke]

This was wonderfully crafted, David. I love that you used a part of history to tell this narrative. I knew some of this, but not all, so you gave me quite a nice history lesson here. Most excellently done as usual dear.

[Blue Ivory]

I love the way you tell stories. And you tell them through poetry which is something that not so many people do anymore. It's refreshing to read your work. This one, I can see, is not fiction. It was nice to learn about this piece of history :)

[Rishabh Shaw]

wow well versed, you paid attention to every detail right from the start till end, and rhymed it perfectly.'..and lo it comes to life...'

p.s. what do you call this alternate rhyming style?