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Sighing refulgent bosom hills,
Scarred by ruined satanic mills,
Their spluttering loom, weaved a textile ‘scape,
Now dyed in cheap dils, rent-a-car thrills,
Reverberatin bass boom, over miles its draped,
Crossin green valleys, chorusin backyard alleys
Jumpin red lights, floatin red kites,
Above my wutherin heights…
My Bloody bus ticket’s sodden torn,
My singed Yorkshire sandstone worn,
But no matter, let the rain pain patter,
For Let the old biddies natter,
For Let wet watermelons splatter,
For Let forgotten windows shatter.
I’ll take the snicket.

A narrow way between two walls,
Keep walkin, ignore those calls,
Airmax squeaky along loose cobbled lanes,
Avoid the greasy takeaway contains,
Past jaded buds and Quran academies
Cast revived duds and corroded johnnies,
Beyond fortified pads, wi moats of litter
A sad oily rainbow spill, cryin glitter
Look up yonder, fresh air is near,
Damn it’s what brought waves of ‘gration here,
For sometimes fresh air solves your ails,
Fills your sails,
Just to Breathe in, those moors an dales.

wandering heights: Text
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