John Betjeman's statue casts its eye

looking up to London heights

an island in the stream of travellers

cast in bronze as befits his station

a symbol of a divided nation,

of those who care for a cherished past

and those who leave that thought behind them. 

 

Sir John thinks of Metroland

where the burrowing underground meets the sky

close shouldered by avenues of poplars

and Buckinghamshire's leafy lanes,

where Middlesex neighbours sequestered wait

behind their sunburst garden gate. 

 

But all is not well in Pinner, Stanmore

Ruislips's cheery shopping parades

the likes of McDonalds and Burger King

are jeopardising everything,

spoiling the diets of the populace 

who flock there in their baseball haste

while Subway joins the fast food race. 

 

Rus in Urbe now ends at the kerb

where John enthused over the street lamp's glow

scathing about mock Tudor bars

now he curses the stripes that align with stars.