The county council cavalry
All dressed in Tory blue
Breast plates all a gleaming
Anticipating another Waterloo.
Their steeds snorting and sweating
Through defences they can barge
And with sabres pointed at Blyth
Together they all cry charge.
We won’t attack Blyth’s heart lads
That’s long since dead
We’ll go for the town’s lung boys
Leave them all gasping instead.
Breathing in the good sea air, men
It’s good for all at large
But getting fit and healthy?
Well, for that there is a charge.
Our future under the cavalry
Really looks quite bleak and stark
What next for our old town folks
A charge for Ridley Park?
All things will have charge
A blink, a yarn, an itch
A cheer, a shout or song
As the Spartans take to the pitch.
The books have to balance
With that we see and agree
Changing the spend, spend, spend
Of the Viv Nicholson party.
To the officers of the cavalry
And their commander in chief
Stop charging for our town’s assets
We’ll be like Adam with just a fig leaf.
Old Blyth Castle, we are promised
Will one day just be dust?
A new Camelot arising
In politicians and planners we must trust.
So why charge for parking
Where people just want to have fun
Another piece of Blyth may die
With a sabre to our lung.