Mistress of the Crown
He would dock on the Tyne, lure me in, reel me
up Side to The Crown; time and again I’d resist
then give in to the promise of silk and port wine.
I’d leave my pinny on Paddy’s Market, the fish-
gutters on their stalls, the bone-lasses on Butcher
Bank with a stench of Lort Burn at their doors.
I’d leave them on Breakneck Stairs to meet him
at Castle Keep; I’d turn my back at Black Gate
for the glister of Silver Street.
Each time he sailed I’d go down
to the river and feel it slap me like a mother
with tales of his Spanish bride.
I’d dream of mantillas, tortoiseshell peinetas,
petticoats that foam on the tide, flamenco roses
like blood-red dresses floating on the waterline.
I’d dream her on Dog Leap Stairs and leave her
at Castle Keep; I’d watch her from Lantern Tower
swirl down Pilgrim Street.
He would dock on the Tyne, lure me in, reel me
up Side to The Crown; time and again I’d resist
then give in to the promise of silk and port wine.
Originally called The Crown, the Spanish word ‘Posada’ – inn or resting place – was added in the 19th century when it was owned by a sea captain. Story has it that he had a wife in Spain and kept a mistress in Newcastle who eventually joined him in the pub.
Bernadette McAloon is a PhD candidate at Newcastle University researching Female Identities and Cultures in Poetry of Place. She was placed as a runner-up in the Mslexia Poetry Competition 2012, winner of the Vorse Scribben Basil Bunting Award 2013, and recipient of the Flambard Poetry Prize 2016.