Oh, not to be in England
Now that April`s here,
For whoever wakes in England
Sees some morning too aware
The office-blocks and high-rise flats
And workers in hard-hats
Where no birds sing , and no tree grows
– except in concrete rows!
And after April when May follows
When roads are up , bulldozers wallow
In the mud, and hammer and drill offend
The senses, where once the green trees grew
Now thundering lorries rend
The former peace so that the thrush
– one left , his rapture rushes!
Defeated by the noise, he sings song one.
Blossom and dewdrop – all are gone
Replaced by iron stake and plastic fence
Much brighter here – the orchids dense!
Here`s to Chamberlain`s memory!
Now time has passed, one can see
Right off Cote d`Azur here
How right he was not to fear!
The foreign threat in Europe.
Encouraged by the hope
Of promised non-aggression
People have the wrong impression
Of Chamberlain the statesman
A leader in the van
Of progress for our country!
He waved in London as our bounty
That scanty piece of paper
“Peace in our time” : to each distrusting gaper;
which would curtail our little wartime caper.
© A.B. Finlay Ph.D