What now of Warwick?




The Look and Learn media,
poked our clever bull,
in the eye of the storm,
so much for love.

As long as we can afford a cheap communist shirt,
bought in some big bright shed,
that we visit,
for a long walk in the dry.

We wont drink Mr Molotov's cocktail,
the happiest hour,
or kick start light engineering in a squat,
courtesy of Mr Kalashnikov,
the history of the world in one hundred objects.

There's always the Californian spliff,
a rizla to far,
they should give the home grown,
a Queen's award to industry.

Maybe the green acorn will be a small forest in twenty years,
enough for a fleet of the line,
but you will turn it into a finely crafted wardrobe,
with no way out to see Aslan,
the tiger will live in museum.

The will of the people is the will of God,
dancing on the tables of St George's hall,
all shall come to the revolution ball,
who will eat the last of the cod?
the bricklayer shoulders her hod,
scaling ladders are being built to assault the castle.

~