In pre-fabs, Nissen Huts and terraced slums,

Exhausted marriages plodded along.

Intrigues of passion would sometimes burst forth,

Though not with the new-wave cool of the North.

 

‘I don’t understand what she sees in him;

He couldn’t get the padlock off his bike.’

Bomb damage gnawed into the local pubs

And trysts took place behind working men’s clubs.

 

Couples stole kisses on paths by the Thames;

On big match days, fans would dangle from rooves

Of grimy high-rises bereft of love

And cheer on the Hammers from up above.

 

District and Central lines met at Mile End,

With city employees sweating inside.

Each day they walked from the Tower to Bank,

Where amorous intentions mostly sank.