Streets of London

Have you seen the old man In the closed-down market Kicking up the paper, with his worn out shoes? In his eyes you see no pride Hands held loosely at his side Yesterday's paper telling yesterday's news




So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind






Have you seen the old girl
Who walks the streets of London
Dirt in her hair and her clothes in rags?
She's no time for talking,
She just keeps right on walking
Carrying her home in two carrier bags.






So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

In the all night cafe
At a quarter past eleven,
Same old man is sitting there on his own
Looking at the world
Over the rim of his tea-cup,
Each tea last an hour
Then he wanders home alone

So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand and lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind



And have you seen the old man
Outside the seaman's mission
Memory fading with
The medal ribbons that he wears.
In our winter city,
The rain cries a little pity
For one more forgotten hero
And a world that doesn't care

So how can you tell me that you're lonely,
say for you that the sun don't shine and
Let me take you by the hand lead you through the streets of London
I'll show you something to make you change your mind

The beautiful, but sad song . . . "Streets of London"

in the house

in the house
(hein willemse:die stormtroepe is in die strate)

the americans are in the streets
the poets are addicted rappers
the pastors are panic-stricken prophets
the young boys wear earrings
the young girls carry the pregnant burden of life

the hard livings are in the streets
the women earn extra-marital dollars in sea point & at the waterfront
the old women anxiously await their pensions
the men queue jobless against padlocked gates
the old men are unclaimed baggage on stations with rusted
rails

the clever kids govern the streets
they bmw boys Xstatic from rave to rave
the streets are deserted
the west coast boys govern the streets

the writers are famous in foreign countries
the preachers are ghetto-blastered into silent submission
by tupac shakur & puff daddy
the virgins carry mandrax in their barren barrels
the corpses mushroom red like roses under white sheets
on the pavements

the 28's are in the streets
the boys wear caterpillars

the clever kids bump & grind more clever kids out onto the
streets
the girls wear designer jeans

the gangs are liberated
there are no children in the streets

clinton v du plessis:evangelis van die nihilisme

The swing swings high

The swing, swings high
And now its low
Weightless once
Then pinned below
Round and round
And round we go
Giddy now
The status quo
While puppets play
Its all a show
Come join me then
What's more to know?

Peter Hollard