Within St Stephen’s tower doth Big Ben mourn
In silence he appeals to Nation’s hearts
For one who brought such hope to those forlorn
Yet now they cannot weep as she departs
For some the ‘Queen Boudicca’ springs to mind
On chariots aflame, wouldst lead the way
To iron out what she perceived unkind
Decisive and defying in her day
No handbags at ten paces, not for her
A leader who did punch above her weight
E’en closed down mines and lives, lest they concur
Compassion seemed to be the missing trait
Divisive thoughts are held within the throng
In time ‘Our Maggie’ may prove others wrong