London (Words William Blake, Music Ian Inkster Poem by Dr Ian Inkster

I wander thro' each dirty street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks ofwoe.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear

How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackening Churchappals,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls

But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlotscurse
Blasts the new-born Infantstear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse.