ivor or ivor.e hogg
Money Talks - Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg
The village streets are dark and cold.
Most stay at home and watch T.V
Its not the place it used be
when coal was king in days of old.
When miners earned a princely wage.
The village pubs were thriving then,
those days will never come again.
Commuting now is all the rage.
The many pubs are all closed down
the shops have dwindled to a few.
There is so little we can do
We have shop in the next town.
But they are building everywhere.
New houses thrown up in a flash
For other folk who have the cash
The planners do not seem to care.
This valley is a beauty spot
where tacky houses spoil the view.
An old complaint forever new
I can complain. Why should I not.
I’m not against making progress.,
Sometimes a change is for the best
when it is made at our request.
It seems our choice grows ever less.
The speculators buy the land.
Pull down the pubs which they replace
with houses tightly packed in place.
The only thing they understand.
is how much profit they can make.
Their balance sheets must always show
how they can make their money grow.
They are in charge make no mistake..
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