THE MARCH OF THE GUILLOTINES.(Poem)

The Shade of Sir William Schwenk Gilbert Transmigrated into the Body of Kate Wu (a First Year Media Studies Student at Middlesex University) Observes the Early Stirrings of the Machine Revolution in 2010.

 
   See the guillotines are marching through the city 
   (without pity), 
   And galumph! galumph! galumph! we're on our 
   knees, 
   though their marching songs are gritty, 
   rough and raucous and unpretty, 
   Full of squeaks and hoots and gurgles like Chinese 
   (if you please), 
   Squeaks and squawks and hoots and gurgles like 
   Chinese. 
 
   Yes the guillotines are marching 
   up to Admiralty Arch and 
   All their little flags are fluttering in the breeze ... oh 
 
   So I watch them from the launderette as nightly 
   (oh so tightly), 
   Rank upon rank, they muster in the colonnade--how 
   the moon is round and sightly! 
   how the air is crisp! how brightly 
   Do the stars reflect from every squittering blade 
   (on parade), 
   Yes, the stars ...