by Paul Murgatroyd, UK
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
Of industrial waste and acid rain
That flays the face and melts the brain.
I’ll take you to my rustic home
Beside a lake of toxic foam;
We’ll watch beneath a searing sky
The few remaining creatures fry.
In earth’s final days, the time of blood,
After the tempests, deluge and flood,
Our England’s green and pleasant land
Is hissing dust and sullen sand.
Those pricks in power with their corporate dream
Have fucked every mountain, fucked every stream;
No crops in the fields, no grass on the hills,
No host of golden daffodils.
We’ll go for a swim and not even frown
When the sewage turns our skin a bit brown;
Building on that, we’ll acquire a quick tan
In the winding-sheet heat created by man.
And the cancerous swains shall sing and play
In this lovely land of death and decay.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.