Three Ghosts

Three tailors of Tooley Street wrote: We, the People.
 The names are forgotten. It is a joke in ghosts.

 Cutters or bushelmen or armhole basters, they sat
 cross-legged stitching, snatched at scissors, stole each
 other thimbles.

 Cross-legged, working for wages, joking each other
 as misfits cut from the cloth of a Master Tailor,
 they sat and spoke their thoughts of the glory of
 The People, they met after work and drank beer to
 The People.

 Faded off into the twilights the names are forgotten.
 It is a joke in ghosts. Let it ride. They wrote: We,
 The People.

Published in Smoke and Steel

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