Lost Wolverhampton

Once Stately, Once  Noble, now the subject of pity,
this  Prince amongst  Towns.  Now doleful city.
I offer you my homage due, and pray that you will  rise anew.

To see once again through the eyes of a dove , and look across the town I love, a place once much admired,
I see your face then lined with care, those  streets that were your thoroughfare.. now sadly looking tired.

I mark how well with grace you wear . your stately coronet in your hair; St Peters Church, your crown.
You look so grand as you peer down , Oh mother of my town.

I note that after their daily chore, as shelter from the traffic’s roar beneath your shade in Summer sit,
retired ladies who talk and knit, while old men sleep and snore.

And in the waters of your fountain Sweet as people stroll along Lichfield Street,
a little boy sails his boat in waters issued from a dolphins throat.

You the Mother of our town; do you not now weep when you look down. On us your foolish children.
Or do you still see  a township fine and say of us with pride, they are still mine, a noble hearty people.

What secrets are locked within your heart, what truth of them could you impart, Of days now gone before us.
I have travelled far and wide and always speak of you with pride, and of my native town that bore me.

And I still see your  mighty town, by looking up not looking down, and often around thy streets I walk;
these streets now of different house’s, and with  old townsfolk I stop and talk. I hear their grumps and grouses.

Today  as I walk into the square with Albert’s statue standing there, I can see we are still patriotic.
My thoughts go  back to times gone by,  back to were  I hear a  traders cry, and see the crowds in Dudley Street, and watch a policeman on his beat and see trolley buses passing by.

And  walking through your streets at night to  see you bathed in pale moonlight.
Holds for me a wonder I can’t explain,  I know I shall have to  come, again.

And so I will, to pay my due and offer you my service true. you once mighty town that bore me.
Oh please rise again and take your place, my noble town with dirty face, and rebuild our streets for us to  see and  for other cities to envy.