The Duke is Dead
A record of the Duke of Edinburgh’s funeral
The shadow’s shadowsbowed their headsLike sundials stoodIn gold and red Their bear skins hair Blew in the windSide by side Her soldiers twinned The marching band Played Queens anthemsWith versions ofJerusalem They marched towardsHis resting placeThe canons firedTo mark each space The church bell rangAnd echoed out foreverIn processionFamily swayed together They bore his weight Before the entranceAnd paused In quiet Remembrance Then rose towardsThe wooden doorAcross the stone And chequered floor And there the choirWould sing a requiemThe Dean would speakAnd comfort them His medals Upon alter layClose family Each stand and pray The Queen sat aloneIn solitudeAn ambassadorOf fortitude Her Duke will restAnd wait for herHer shadow Never late for her The coffin slowlyLowering The pipers playAnd choirs sing Once more the shadowsBow their headsThe bugles soundThe Duke is dead