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Comments about June Eddowes
The street where I was born is gone,
Other streets go one by one,
A heritage of time gone by,
I look – and then I want to cry.
Why did they have to be pulled down?
I’ve seen the bricks and dust around.
Why could they not have been protected?
Although in war years, they were neglected.
The character that once they were
Is gone forever – the place is bare.
The plain and drabbest buildings built
I feel the pain, I feel the guilt.
They’ve taken away the comradeship, of neighbours talking in the street.
High rise flats, alone and lost.