30 Years On Poem by Simon M Hunter

Where there was fear and a handful of must
Where there was discord, a footfall of dust
Where there was strife and its cries of despair
There was the Thatch with its bones in its lair

Heirs to the Thatch are surrounding the fold
Whetting their claws for your coat in the cold
Baron Belize with his ermine and greed
Whistles his wolves to their slavering feed

Fangs from the banks with the renders of war
Scoffed all they could, now they're coming for more
'Give us your pensions, your pittances too
Feckless oik workers. Why, thatch's what we do! '

White's to the Carlton, the pack's on the hunt
Just as they howled out of Maggie's old