1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 It does seem crowded doesn’t it?
When you’re cheek by jowl at rush hour,
Or stuck in a monotonous motorway jam,
With an endless stream of men
In different coloured football shirts
Leaving their Saturday carbon boot print
All over England’s green and pleasant land.
But up here in the Dales, it’s different,
Walking past old dead lead mines
With an endless vista of rolling hills,
And not a house or home to be seen,
Just a William Blake sunset–
And if only we could take those young people
Who might be the BNP’s future,
Feeling marginalised and ignored,
Or feeling stereotyped as racists
When they express their confusion,
For a walk amongst these hills;
It’s not so crowded is it?

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/jerusalem/