Conflicts
When I went to school in the city
my friends though I was poor,
but I didn’t understand
wasn’t really very sure;
I only knew that
when I got home
I had all those miles
of fields to roam,
and every long summer
within easy reach,
half hour’s walk,
was Cowden beach.
They may have had running water
and toilets that flushed
but I hated their streets
their lives that rushed.
I was never ever at ease
when I was there,
hated the noise,
the very air.
They had the cinemas,
I had the sun.
They could play in the parks
I could walk with my gun;
and very special, I had two lives.
My friends known almost from birth
village folk with families like mine
mostly living from and with the earth
and my newly found city friends.
I kept each in their own part of my day
the best of both worlds,
I liked it that way.
A man’s not poor
if he needs to be told
what he’s missing
out there in the cold
My life may have been considered lacking
by those friends back there in the city,
from my position it was they
who needed my pity.
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