A thousand cities just like this
the touch of death for some,
no golden well paved streets
just the well heeled and
some poor mother's son
sat
begging for the price,
of a cup of tea or
a tin of 'Ice'

And another story's told before the
last one gets too old
and each story tells of misery
in a thousand cities
just like this.

We can kiss goodbye to the hot mince pie
and the glass of spiced mulled wine because
it's Christmas and it's not the time
to worry about anyone else.