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.