Edwin Morgan(b. 1920)
King Billy
Grey over Riddrie2 the clouds piled up,
dragged their rain through the cemetery trees.
The gates shone cold. Wind rose
flaring the hissing leaves, the branches
swung, heavy, across the lamps.
Gravestones huddled in drizzling shadow,
flickering streetlight scanned the requiescats, 3
a n a m e a n d an u r n , a d a t e , a d o v e
p i c k e d o u t , l o s t , h a l f r e g a i n e d .
What is this dripping wreath, blown from its grave
red, white, blue, and gold
"To O u r L e a d e r o f T h i r t y y e a r s A g o " —
B a r e h e a d e d , i n d a r k s u i t s , w i t h f l u t e s
and drums, they brought him here, in procession
s e r i o u s l y , K i n g Billy o f B r i g t o n , d e a d ,
from Bridgeton Cross: a memory of violence,
brooding days of empty bellies,
b i l l i a r d s m o k e 4 a n d a s o u r p i n t ,
boots or fists, famous sherrickings, 5
the word, the scuffle, the flash, the shout,
bloody crumpling in the close,
bricks for p a p i s h 0 w i n d o w s , g e tRoman Catholic
t h e C o n k s 6 n e x t t i m e , t h e C o n k s a m b u s h
t h e Billy B o y s , t h e Billy B o y s t h e C o n k s till
S i l l i t o e s c u f f s t h e razors d o w n t h e s t a n k 0 —drain
No, but it isn't the violence they remember
but the legend of a violent man
b o r n p o o r , g a n g - l e a d e r i n t h e b a d t i m e s
of idleness and boredom, lost in better days,
a b o u n c e r in a b e t t i n g c l u b ,
q u i e t m a n a t last, d y i n g
a l o n e i n B r i d g e t o n i n a b o x b e d .
S o a t h o u s a n d p e o p l e s t o p p e d t h e traffic
for the hearse of a folk hero and the flutes
threw "Onward Christian Soldiers to the winds
from unironic lips, the mourners kept
i n s t e p , a n d t h e r e w e r e s o m e w h o w e p t .
G o f r o m t h e grave. T h e shrill f l u t e s
are s i l e n t , t h e m a r c h d i s p e r s e d .
D e p l o r e w h a t i s t o b e d e p l o r e d ,
a n d t h e n f i n d o u t t h e rest.