The Piper by Chris Lloyd

A dark, dreary day, Falls Road, Belfast;
For the deceased this journey was his last.
He was one of the leaders of the Party,
Commander-In-Chief of their army.

The family were gathered, the Son concierge
A Piper took his place at the head of the cortege.
He was cold, flexing his fingers, looking at the floor
Hoping he wouldn’t be called to do this anymore.  

The church, two hundred yards hence,
The Piper, a feeling of trouble – he was tense.
This time more so for this was the Chief who
In the Troubles, made people see sense..

A tap on his shoulder, all was ready,
Filling the pipe’s bags he got himself steady,
Set a sedate pace so the family could show
Even in death he was still the man to know.

He walked a slow walk, eyes watching, wary,
Piping a tune, in his in head saying Hail Mary,
People crowded as they passed houses, then rubble;
Telling himself there’d be no more trouble.

He noticed a group pointing and shouting
The Son came quickly his heart pounding,
He said something to the Priest,
Some “old friends”, left out of the feast.

The Piper looked around, made, his pace quicker
The crowd was growing, getting thicker,
He led them to church, piped the final notes,
They walked in, minders checking their coats.

Service over, the Piper stood waiting for the sign.
The Son came forward, said, “Now is the time.”
He led them to where the Chief was being interred,
Everyone singing to the very last word.

The Piper was scared, hoped his debt would be paid.
He was twenty three, living in fear for over a decade,
Paying the price for his father’s “treasonable” dealings;
The Chief had shot him like a rat, without any feelings.

The Piper wanted to leave this scarred city,
There would always be reprisals more is the pity.
Once the debt was paid, this life would cease,
He’d be away within hours to live his life in peace.

The Son hove into sight.
“Thank you, Danny, nice gig, well played son.
Next Saturday, your uncle’s funeral, then you’re done.”
The son walked away smiling like a ghoul,
The Piper slumped down, sick to his soul.
His uncle was not yet dead.