Death of an unknown man...

I was listening to PM on Radio Four yesterday when a report of an unidentified old man taking himself to the top of a hill on Saddleworth Moor to lay down to die came on the radio. Nobody knows who he was; he just got off the London train, went for a pint and then wandered up on the moor to lie on the ground until he ceased to exist. Of course my mind buzzed with questions, but as I listened to the three minute report I found myself keying this verse. I have no idea why, it wasn’t an experiment as an experiment requires planning and intention, it just happened almost automatically as I listened to the newsreader stating the facts. It was done by the time the report ended and I was left wondering where it had come from and why.

  

Death of an unknown man

I traveled from London on the day of my death

Train on a Friday

To Indian’s Head.

A pint at the Clarence

Then hard up the hill,

Darkness descending

To lie down with my ills.

It was wet, it was cold

I was done, I felt old.

Don’t ask who I am,

And don’t question why.

I am my own man

I’ve chosen to die.

Now as I lay me down to sleep

Shrouded in my mystery

I know this hill my soul will keep

As I become old history.