The natural home of the poet
Is not among society’s elite
But away from the riches and finery
And the fat-cat country seat.
We’re the eyes for the one who’s the underdog
The one struggling hard for his kin
The one who lost out when they took all the jobs
Who stands in the food queue again.
We’re the questioning voice of the sickly
While hospitals have wards that are closed
Who wonder why governments say ‘We all spend more!’
And ponder where it’s been disposed.
We have Portakabin classrooms that just shouldn’t be
And walls full of mould in our schools
Yet pay and pensions in the Westminster bubble
Go up yet again, as we’re treated as fools.
It’s quite true we don’t wander around with the rich
For our hearts and our minds are elsewhere
We’re keeping a watch on corruption at large
And versing your created despair.
©Joe Wilson – Were we really all in it together…2015