Thursday, 28 July 2011


The Men In Suits came to our city’s old walls
Armed with suspicious grins.  We all knew what was in store.
They tried to get into the city but the gate was shut
We said:  “You’ll pardon us if we don’t fully trust
But we remember Vikings and we remember Romans
We remember Dick Turpin, Guy Fawkes and Queen Vic
But we also remember non-magical money tricks.”
But the Men In Suits just smiled like vultures
Told us they had big plans for our town’s future
Promised shiny new hospitals worth every penny,
(though maybe not available to the smelly many)
Schools vastly improved at only slight expense,
(though maybe not everyone will access the contents)
Take the ‘Holiday’ out of Holiday Camp when it comes to prisons,
Sell off contracts, people and property with veiled good intentions.
But we knew we could not let our town be bought and slowly die
And as one we all replied in a mighty cry:
“You’ll turn Clifford’s Tower into one giant CCTV camera
Set up a base of operations in the crypt of the Minster
And if we disagree you’ll chain us up in the Dungeons.
What you’ll do to the Museum Gardens doesn’t even deserve a mention,
And we’re the most haunted city in Europe, but you’ll make it a real ghost town.
You’ll bulldoze every decent pub except you won’t knock The Willow down.”
Well the mask had slipped, the Men In Suits cursed and swore
As they tried feebly to batter down our gates and doors,
But were forced to bring their mercenary army to bear.
Armed with spears, axes, swords and hefty cleavers
They said “we’re going to chop your city and carve it up
And what we don’t hack, we’ll suck out all the blood
From your little town.  All its little history
Will still remain, but without a future of opportunity.
It’ll be our little quaint museum piece of peace,
A pretty little town sold and lulled to gentle sleep.
All those battles will be confined to the long forgotten past.
Any form of spirit kept firmly in a museum under glass.”
We (the people on the walls and the people in the roads
The people in the parks, in the pubs, in our homes)
Who had built the Minster, the Tower, the city walls
Knew this city was our home, these streets belong to us all.
So the cry went out from this old city fuelled by the past
Proving this spark and this community was built to last:
“You buy it, you break it
This city’s not for taking
We demand a future as well as a past
As One Voice Let Cry: York Fights Back

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