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Poem

The Man in the Street

Watch out, watch out for the man in the street
Who is finding a voice that you don’t want to hear.
Before, they were always the sheep that don’t bleat
And for too long, too long, you have turned a deaf ear.

The man in the street is finding a voice
And if you don’t sit up, take notice and listen
Your world will be hit by the force of his choice
Like a violent outburst of nuclear fission.

For too long, too long, the ruling elite
Have looked down averted and myopic noses.
They’ve taken for granted the man in the street
And this time they won’t come up smelling of roses.

It might take a while, things take time to grow,
But sprouting young acorns will turn into oaks.
The man in the street is getting to know
That your claims to democracy are just a hoax.

Because even if you have the best of intention
The Office for This and the Qango for That
Are minefields that exercise powers of prevention
To ensure even mildest reforms all fall flat.

You promise us this and you promise us that,
We vote in good faith but, whoever should win,
We might as well pull a name out of a hat.
Your fine manifesto goes straight in the bin

And you do things that you never told us about,
That you kept under wraps and didn’t reveal
And bind us with laws we’d be better without
And give us no chance to object or appeal.

But the man in the street has woken at last,
His silent consent is a thing of the past.
His apathy’s gone, he is finding his feet;
Watch out, watch out for the man in the street.

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