By Greenwich Reach did Tory John
A great big pleasure dome decree,
Where Thames, the sacred river, ran
Through docklands pleasureless to man
Down to a stormy sea.
So half a mile of reclaimed ground
With metal towers was girdled round;
And there were lorry loads for deep landfills
Where blossomed not a solitary tree;
And there were managers on Valium pills
Despairing of ever seeing greenery.
But O! that Jubilee line tunnel, which slanted
Down a big hole beneath an earthen cover—
A savage place, as lonely and disenchanted
As e’er beneath an empty dome was haunted
By electricians, wailing to be put in clover.
And round the dome, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As though the Prince of Darkness still were breathing,
A powerful lot of doctored spin was forced.
Amid the swift rebuttal’s rapid burst
Hyperbole vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or ‘why-O-whys’ within the Daily Mail.
And in the Wapping docks, the same as ever,
It caused great mirth, which sped along the river.
Five years the Tories had a hazy notion,
Till Labour came, and santimonies ran,
And reached the docklands pleasureless to man,
And fell in tumult to mere self-promotion.
And ’mid that tumult Tony heard with gloom
Journalistic voices prophesying doom.
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Fell across the river’s waves,
Where was heard the tuneless measure
Of Londoners at bops and raves.
It was a sight to leave you at a loss:
A tourist venue with no place to cross.
A damsel with a dulcet tone
On the telly once I saw.
It was a Medieval Maede,
And on the BBC she played
The New Year show from Edinburgh.
Could I arouse within me
Any sense of song
At this infernal din, the
Millennium loud and long—
Which seems to bring so much hot air,
That wretched dome, like disks of ‘Spice’—
I might not have these visions where
A voice cries out ‘Beware! Beware!
Those demon eyes! that foxy Blair!
Take the Circle Line, think twice
Before you visit that white shed;
There is some money due, it’s said;
It might be less than paradise.’
At this point I was interrupted by a manful doorknock. It was someone canvassing for the European elections.