Now in the trust of the nation,

I do enjoy these rotting stately houses,

Funded, though they were, from doubtful sources,

Through rapaciousness, imperial, the exploits 

Of the state’s entrepreneurial bulldogs.

Upon peasants mostly cleared from country lands  

Then tenanted in tenemented towns

And set to sweat in quarries, pits and mills

The profitmongers built their stately piles

And trust in the nation.

With slavering exploitation, from new lands

They gathered, shipped away and brought back home;

Their animals, vegetables and minerals

And questions, plenty but unanswerable,

About trust in the nation. 

I do enjoy these rotten stately homes,

Tyntesfield, built of guano; Cragside, arms;

Barrington of sugar; Waddesdon, gold;

Speke Hall with slaves. And Allan Bank - a prelude 

to the trust of the nation.

Envoi

These gifts to the state may be acts of atonement

Or offered in desperation by bankrupted heirs

Or in lieu of death duties or of tax bills, unpaid,

But the sins, too, are ours that were once theirs,

Bequests held in trust for the nation.