My town,

its a thick, insulated place,

Its got pastry on its borders,

dripping with pride

 

The heathered moors

and dark pits,

give it a gristly accent

It rolls round the palate,

like bloody chewing gum

 

Locals shake flakes and crumbs

When hardship bites

As they stumble out of last order doorways,

Perishing cold, corn beef legs

slurry home for love

 

My towns warmth lies in its hearts

Its humour, its strength

Hope in its bones