I'm tired, tired of sitting here all day, Staring at my brother who
has no thoughts of his own
He's just like stone!
He sits contentedly with his lot - gives not a jot for pigeon poo,
Daubed across our stately hue.
I grace the hub of city power, to welcome and guard a host of fame
Dignitaries and royalty, pause before me, caress my mane
A tour of the
city is not complete, unless you meet
The Council Lions
A pigeon told
Before we arrived a market thrived,
coster banter filled the air, trading wares.
Mad Harry selling stale cakes cheap
Soap box religion vied with buskers strange.
A man displaying muscle brace would fall on his face
Marking the spot with black chalk on his nose.
I think this shows
Just how needed we were to raise the tone.
1929 So, this was now home, a bland slab square
But something had to be done with this drab looking blur
I craved flowers and music to enhance the grandeur.
Yes, I've seen
some improvements over the years
as I execute my guardian role
Witnessed laughter and tears from my solitary post
Never quite being involved, not that I'm cold
it's quite simply beneath my station to display elation
be it victory time
or when Little Johns chimes
to herald a new years birth.
joy touches my soul
And this great heart of mine fills with pride
when the city gathers before me to share the moment.