Fiddler's Green
London
I wander through each chartered street Near where the chartered Thames does flow And mark in every face I meet Marks of weakness, marks of woe In every cry of every man In every infant's cry of fear In every voice, in every ban The mind-forged manacles I hear How the chimney-sweeper's cry Every blackening church appalls And the hapless soldier's sigh Runs in blood down palace walls But most through midnight streets I hear How the youthful harlot's curse Blasts the new born infant's tear And blights with plaques the marriage hearse London calling Big city of fear London calling Can't you hear
From Letras Mania