Sky turns slate-grey

Round Market Harborough way

Then you’re back in the land

Of northern industrial town

 

No flat caps or pigeons

Just hard-working curmudgeons

And the familiar frown

of northern industrial town

 

Here they all scrape and forage

This ain’t the New Forest

This ain’t the South Downs

It’s gritty, northern industrial town.

 

A bit roughly hewn perhaps, but cut me some slack its only around ten minutes old.