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You were Spain (by Nicki Ward)
You were Spain
You were the switch back curves
From the mountain to the sea
Hairpins holding back the olive groves
You were Spain
And we flew through you
Noise some witches
Riding our motorbikes
Riding our broomstick Vespas Like virgins
- Knees pressed firmly to hold our place
You were Spain
And your words made sense
Ananas y Naranjas Fruits made real by closeness to their roots
And your villages
Clung to the mountain by their high mountain names
Binaraitx, Andratx, Fornalutx
Or lapped low and lovely to the sea of Soller
- Puerto de Soller
You were Spain
And we rode the San Franciscan tram
Along the beachfront
- And everyone smoked
The black tabac
The cheap filterless Fundadors
More foul than French
Burning our nostrils with their gunpowder stench
And someone young
- Played guitar
And someone young clapped
And someone young clapped
And someone young clapped
And we knew that this was perfect
And we knew that every other flamenco
Would be spoiled forever
We knew that every other flamenco would always be somehow wrong
Painted on velvet
Y sonri— Todos sonri— salvajemente
And we smiled
We all smiled wildly
- And we saw their
Tears streaming down cheeks that were clenched with joy
And we smiled at their simple sentimentality
And then we tasted the surprising salt on our own lips
And we smiled again in our community
And we Were Spain
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This was England (by David Bourke)
This was England
Our green, pleasant land
Full of meadows, woodland views,
Steeples, swallows,
Countryside picnics,
Shakespeare, Dickens,
Winston Churchill, Vera Lynn...
By jove! Jolly hockey sticks, and all that!
Weep, as a country,
Although never perfect...ah no, far from it!
But dignified, mannered, cultured,
Has then metamorphosised
Into an honourless, violated new nation.
Ruined by materialism,
Instant gratification,
And celebrity worship.
Slowly downward,
Weakened, withered, wasted,
Overpopulated.
Lament, as we unthinkingly sleepwalk into
A communist-fascist tyranny,
A Euro police state.
Men and women, in the World Wars
Heroes and heroines,
Who gave their lives.
For what?
For drunken, promiscuous, vulgar scum,
Hooded vermin, encouraged by the Welfare State,
To reproduce, breed, spawn,
In notorious, rundown sink estates.
Everywhere, shame,
More of the same.
Simply deadwood,
Third-generation unemployed.
Degenerate, with a deep sense of entitlement.
The overpowering stench of decay,
Apathy,
A nation in terminal decline.
Big Brother looks out,
His anonymous digital eye,
Sweeping across a desperate grey landscape,
Snooping on us all.
Conform, you automatons!
Meanwhile 'honourable' members wallow in luxury,
Corrupt, greedy bloodsuckers
'Expenses' paid by the taxpayer
- The working man.
Oh, joy!
Eyes heavenwards,
How we mourn for tomorrow
In what was England.
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