(This poem is an ode to Doncaster in the style of John Betjeman's 'Slough')
Doncaster (So Much To Answer For)
Come friendly bombs and fall on Donny,
Where every street is grey, not sunny.
Where retail parks breed concrete spawn,
And beauty packed its bags at dawn.
Blow up the ring road, smash the shops,
Flatten Greggs and Poundland lots.
Erase the endless traffic jam,
And silence karaoke spam.
Destroy the pubs with sticky floors,
The brawls that spill through broken doors.
The racecourse drags its weary feet,
A faded echo, obsolete.
The Minster stands, a lonely guard,
While car parks spread like cancer, hard.
The Don flows sluggish, brown and slow,
Through fields where warehouses grow.
Come friendly bombs, and cleanse this northern blight,
This town of boredom, dim and trite.
Let Donny fall, let Donny die,
And spare the rest of Yorkshire’s eye.
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