For King Charles I of England
On the day I asked for a second shirt
So my people would not see me shiver
In the cold breeze blowing from the river
And think me afraid to die or be hurt
On that scaffold above the mud and dirt,
Or mistake chill for a lily liver
As if from my maker I would dither,
Too weak in spirit with dark fate to flirt.
But looking down on a sea of faces
I had no need of extra covering,
For kind hearts warmed me through those last paces
And I forgave the axe man hovering;
Then as a lost soul his way retraces
I turned towards home without wavering.