Prince Heathen

Douglas Clark

It is twentytwo years
Since Martin Carthy chanted Prince Heathen
Amongst the trestled wooden tables
Of the upstairs room
At the Golden Cock pub
In Tubwell Row, Darlington.

Now in Bath I listen to it on CD.
That night we talked of Dylan
And Lord Franklin.
This night I ask if all is said.
I was the pagan who took the West by storm.
Oh Lady will you weep for me

The minstrel boy to the war is gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
That was when I wrote The Mong:
Swathes of horsemen hurling themselves against Europe
Taking revenge for Roncesvalles.
Oh Lady will you weep for me

The antiquated engines of love trundle out,
I have forgotten how to write poetry.
Then it was Spring, soon it will be Fall
The Summer has passed in holiday.
I sent out the horsemen for sport.
Oh Lady will you weep for me
 

Douglas Clark