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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1892775
The town where I live.
Ilkeston.

Ilkeston is familiar to me,
I’ve lived here all my life, you see.
A town on the Derbyshire map to be found
It has some nice sights if you look around.

It’s good, it’s bad,
It’s happy, it’s sad.
It’s old, it’s new,
Its honours are few.

But its people are nice,
They’re as quiet as mice.
They’re as loud as thunder,
They make you wonder.

They like their sport,
Their words are short.
They go to bingo,
They speak their own lingo.

They’ve lived here for ages,
On meagre wages,
At the furnaces and the pit,
Doing their bit.


There was coal to be mined
Where the sun didn’t shine,
And there were pipes to be cast
At the ironworks vast.

These industries are now gone,
The land’s been built upon.
Smaller businesses have taken their place,
There are no ‘safe’ jobs in Ilkeston these days.

Men find work where they can,
Delivering goods, driving a van.
Women work at sewing machines,
Making trousers, skirts and jeans.

Others serve in stores and shops
Or clean the floors with buckets and mops.
Most folk are known for being kind,
But they’re not afraid to speak their mind.

They lean on their gates
And talk to their mates
Their town’s the best,
Their town’s the worst.

They’ve seen it thrive,
They’ve seen it dive.
But Ilkeston’s their home so they stay,
Better the devil you know, OK.






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