POEM: The Cavalry

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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.

Stuart Air

Blyth