Our Own

 

Poppy pay day the people mourn,

solemn at cenotaphs they gather,

adorned in sadness, medals and uniforms.

Buttoned and bowed by the Bellwether.

 

In an alley a baby’s born

writhing on its mothers’ lead.

In the sky a firestorm,

on the ground a people bleed.

 

We live so lonely

We care for only

Our own.

 

British workers want their wages

bombs are built by BAE.

House and car are paid in stages

jobs for our community.

 

In a house a wedding’s started

in the sky a shining plane.

Cross hair snare they’re all de-parted.

in the sky a shining plane.

 

We live so lonely

We care for only

Our own.

 

◄ Simon Armitage Lives In Stockport

Hang Out The Poor (Song) ►

Comments

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Harry O'Neill

Sun 17th Nov 2013 20:50


I like that fourth stanza

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