Whip, rope and chain; whip rope and chain
These and the scars are all that remain.
No redemption or atonement assuage a wicked past,
No escape no way out, what was, alas, must last.
Ignominious legacy shackles us to history that endures.
Lives with us since first it came to our lovely shores.
Whip, rope and chain; whip \, rope and chain
Scars and a memory are all that remain.
Bristol is haunted by past sins forefathers made,
Two hundred years of sweat, death and tears: the triangular trade.
We heard legends growing up about the street called Thames,
The cellars in its houses bore manacles and chains.
Whip, rope and chain; whip, rope and chain
Chained to a history of dishonor and shame.
Human beings were chained before the journey south;
Stories were told to us by word of mouth
That our town played an evil, heinous role,
Trading in people, cane, rum; slaves bartered and sold.
Whip, rope, and chain; whip, rope, and chain
Bound to a legacy of ignominy and pain.
Along Hope Street lived the captains of slave trade,
A memory of their cargo cannot ever fade.
Slave ships of Bristol in infamy abides,
Within the walls of Linden Place the ghost of slavery resides.
There is no respite from the rain, no savior in the storm,
Our ignominious legacy will be forever broken, torn.

- Jim Manchester
In support of the Bristol Port Marker Project’s August 23 Day of Remembrance Celebration