Lady Jane Grey

As I’m sure you know, Lady Jane Grey is a character strongly associated with Bradgate Park, and as the recent TV mini-series shows, fascination with her life is as strong as ever. On February 12th, 1554, Lady Jane was executed on the orders of Queen Mary. On the anniversary of her execution, there will be a parade to mark the date at Bradgate Park: you can find details here: http://www.bradgatepark.org/welcome/latest news/#!event_2018_02_12_1_250_1_Queen+of+Bradgate+-+Tulip+Procession

In addition, one of the participants in my Winter workshop has written a poem on the subject of Lady Jane, and this seems like the perfect time to share it with you. Thank you to Angela Yates for writing and sending this, which might make readers think twice about visiting Bradgate after dark…

 

Poor Jane

When nights are dark in Bradgate Park, the ghost of Lady Jane

From Hallgates through to Swithland Woods, goes haunting through the lanes

Behind the War Memorial she lies in wait at night
When lovers pass, their hands she grasps – the poor souls flee in fright

In Bradgate House, where peacocks screech among the ruined walls
She paces, face translucent, pale, along the ancient hall

‘I never wanted to be Queen’, she cries, ‘the truth must now be said
My parents’ aspirations made me lose my pretty head.’

‘Oh pity me,’ she cries in grief, ‘for my pathetic life
Eight days I was a “Majesty”, eight months I was a wife.’

The fallow deer that roam the park, on well-worn lanes and banks
Are fearful every night that she will mount their trembling flanks

Then off she’ll ride to see Old John, another wraith-like ghost
And spectral tales will they exchange, to frighten each the most

Geologists and Scientists, when carrying out their checks
Feel bony, icy fingers touch their unsuspecting necks

And rangers who investigate the oak, the ash the birch
Occasionally glimpse poor Jane, as she makes her fruitless search

To find her head has quite become a miserable obsession
Jane knows that she has every right to take back her possession

The moral of this story is to take your walks by day
And don’t end your days a victim – like her Ladyship, Jane Grey

 

Angela Yates