Where does the truth lay
In the tangled web of genes
That fashioned me?
English yes, without question
But will that ever be enough?
~
It’s easy to accept the culture
Of the Victorian myth makers
Shakespeare’s sceptre Isle
and Miss Marple’s landscape of contentment
Engage romanticism in overdrive
~
Reality is submersed in a soup of make believe
The truth struggling to emerge from
A cauldron of comforting nostalgia
Stand in orderly lines and wait your turn
To admire the ages of our stolen wealth
~
Marvel at the gothic country estates
Eat your sandwiches on the sculptured lawns
Purchased by the favours of a monarchs harlot
Hail to the kings of the cotton towns
Who grew rich on children’s labour
~
But don’t question the past or seek to lift the veil
Remember Liverpool as the home of the Beatles
Not for the slave ships at anchor in the docks
Patriotism is flavoured with myth not the truth
So be content; raise your voices and sing.
