Echoing shadows of good times
Blasted from the bells of honour
No more history to tell
Progressions has changed us
Lightly inhabited valley
A trademark throughout
Firstly known for beauty
Lastly known for failure
Revolution famed our culture
A signature sight
Importance we felt
In our southern land
Sorrow as black as coal we once mined
Where once,
More than one loaf made presence on our table
Iron equal as coal has made us.
Humanity in the land of murdered daughter,
By saxan hands.
An industry evolves.
Nevertheless,
Our celtic sacred land
Stays within its template.
Growth is rapid, society is born.
Through blackened features
Happiness is seen
Rejoice economics for we are earning our
Bread of heaven.
Life drilled into the echoes of the valley
Hour by hour we fed the world
Privileged with our present to survival
What more can we ask
To good to be true we must stay strong.
1979, that bitch has killed us
and I am not yet born but already dead
FREE MARKET ECONOMICS
Fighting words
War has started, honest men will perish
Belts and power stayed slumbered
No sign of light
Echoing shadows of good times
Drowned by despair
Guilty BITCH,
Decisions and actions by you
Have lost us forever.
Forever Wales.
Pamela James Blackwood
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thatcher-years/
