Old England’s Ghosts

Old England’s ghosts,
Sailed on a salted sea of tears,
That drip from every monument,
Each brick mortared by blood and bone.
Of people stolen from their home.

Old England’s ghosts,
Rode on crimson waves,
A bitter ebb and flow,
Sugar then cotton bled them dry,
Lives drained away upon the tide.

Old England’s ghosts,
Are waiting, restless, still,
Memories wrought of flesh and iron,
For the sea that bore their pain,
Can never wash away the stain.

I’ve been reading Eric Williams’ Capitalism and Slavery. I’ll simply note that his book wasn’t published in the UK for decades and even all these years later we believe the myths of abolition rather than the facts.