Is it at Westminster?
Where politicians talk amongst themselves but not to us?
Where people think that red’s the only colour for a bus
And metro men and women fence and fuss
Chattering about the media, the EEC
Whilst news is endlessly distorted by the BBC
…or is it somewhere else?
Is it at Chagford?
Nestling, moorside, grey-stoned, with its trickling stream?
Where no-one watches SKY and people dare to dream
Where old and young get on it seems
And curtains twitch for all to see
Whilst watching Morse repeats on ITV
…or is it somewhere else?
Is it at Sandwich?
Where sea meets land; you’ll meet all sorts
In knotted hanky hats and stumpy shorts
At Dover, Hastings, Hythe or Romney
Squatting, digging in the sands
Guzzling chips with greasy hands
…or is it somewhere else?
Is it at Leeds – or Bradford?
Birmingham, Croydon, where kids burn shops
Get drunk, wear vests and tiny tops
Where hope no longer springs eternal
And police, too scared to stride the beat
Fill in their forms, put up their feet
…or is it somewhere else?
Or, is it in our hearts and minds?
That good was here – decency, fair play
Sunkissed summers, the darling buds of May
Then let’s make sure these memories linger on
Not dwell upon the where and when
But hope this England lives again
June 2013