THE GOLDEN BOY OF PYE CORNER, Giltspur St, London EC1A 9DD

You’ll see a boy,
coiffed and gilt,
if you raise your head on Gilt-
spur street.
He marks a tavern,
The fortune of war,
Watt Tyler, stiff.
Unfortunate.
Naked,
nostalgic

for a place where
Shakespeare buys
saddles
nearby
CORSPES, SNATCHED by
resurrectionists,
lie in wait for a St Bart’s nurse,
inexperienced.
Yet the Great Redeemer,
the GREAT FIRE halted,
awarded a second chance
to Cock lane.
 
So, heed his WARNING,
engraved in stone,
for what started with a pudding
ended with pie.
To gluttony we must say
goodbye.