I lost the Hull I knew, my faithful mistress. She's become London to me. All friendlessness and life-strife, With none of London's gains.
Mistress, My provincial oddity, Lost. Her comfortable bosom gone.
This could be Milton Keynes, Or dreary Slough, now. How could you slip away Hull? Without a requiem?
Let me tell you my dreadful sentence, The punishment handed down, My terrible fate, I must wait.
Here, Until my youngest daughter's grown, And Flown.
Wait and sigh and wonder, What became of my lover? Wait and groan, Until,
That day when I like you, Hull spirit, Can quietly slip away, Unsung,
Never to return. |
|