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. |
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