Listen..!
Empty
dwellings, open doors,
Broken
windows, rotting floors,
A derelict
street, a scar on the town.
Neat old
ladies look and frown.
People’s
past living here,
Old and
alone, living in fear.
What of
their future? No one knows.
The march of
progress onward goes.
Little
money, little pleasure,
Life for
them gives short measure.
Dirty
streets, front and back,
Airs and
graces aren’t all they lack.
Bare skinned
kids in an old tin bath,
Progress
drowns them in its aftermath.
Drunken father,
sluttish mother,
Wild eyed
kids and here breeds another.
Dirty streets front and back,
The lout on
the corner will answer back.
He’ll call
down a curse on his fellow man
And take out
his anger on the stolen van.
(It’s all
our fault I’m sure you know
They’re
pauperised.....
Hey don’t
go!!)
