‘A Gift Of England'


Tell me what you view through the mist
From these staggering heights
Mountains; oceans; pastures; forests
Punctuated by villages quaint and quiet
Oh, I would readily give you all of this
If only I had the right

Tell me what you view through the fog
From this precarious high rise
Stinking precincts; boarded up shops; rotting concrete multi-storeys and tower blocks
Punctuated by misery, desperation, violence and crime
And hey, I'd trip over myself to sign it all over to the dogs
If I felt it were in any way mine.

 

© M.A.Tovey 2009

 

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