Poetry

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FROM THE COBBLE STONE'S I CAME;SURE IF THEY COULD THEY WOULD
SAY THE SAME,THEIR SOUNDS HAVE GONE SINCE THE LANE WAS ONE,WHERE
YESTERDAY WENT THAT WAS FUTURE'S DENT,OVER THE NORTH GATE BRIDGE
I MAY STOP AND FIDGET,MY WORD THE WATER'S OF THE RIVER LEA LOOK UP
AT ME,AND SAY LOOK AT WE,NO FISHE'S NOW DO WE SEE NO MACKEREL,OR
MULLET SHOULD SWIMMER'S SWIM WE COULD CHOKE A GULLET,WHAT WOULD
THE SIGHTSEER'S SAY THE WATER'S ARE DEAD WHERE NO FISHE'S CAN
SPREAD,THAT WAS ANOTHER DAY MR. J.NOW THE FUTURE IS GONE WHERE DO
IT COME FROM,CAN'T ASK A FISH SINCE NOW THEY ARE NONE WHAT DO I
TELL TO-DAY WHERE NO FISH WILL STAY,SHOULD THE WATER'S REPENT,NOT
AT ALL WHAT CAME WITH MANKIND'S THRALL WILL SOME COME TO-DAY,THAT
WOULD BE A MIRACLE FOR US ALL,AMEN WON'T FALL.
Joe.

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