It was on Monday* that we heard
That Margaret Hilda was no more
Though absent from the scene, she stirred
In equal measure hate and awe.
First lady Premier – quite a feat
Her place in history secure
But for the Man out in the Street
Her legacy is far from clear.
For eleven years, she reigned supreme
The Falklands she took back by storm
The Belgrano sinking shocked the Queen
She was like a Boadicea reborn.
Take the miners’ strike in Eighty-Four
She crushed the unions, closed the pits
The industrial heartland was no more
The Labour party, weak, just sits.
The North-South divide soon in full spate
Tenants can purchase council homes
School milk abolished, E.U. rebate
The rising Yuppie, easy loans.
Rebellion within the Tory ranks
The Iron Lady forced to leave
Though teary eyed, she gets scarce thanks
Many rejoice; a few may grieve.
Retired at last from public life
The grocer’s daughter fades from view
Now Denis’s widow not his wife,
She has Alzheimer’s to contend with too.
Her death at Eighty-Seven this week
Opens those old wounds anew
As many are silent as will speak
Her state funeral will be a troubled “do”.
* 8th April, 2013
(written for her funeral: 13th April, 2013)
(c) Poet in the woods 2014