Special Mansfield

We had industry once that the Tories refined,
A nice market and shops – but oh they’ve declined.

Our Mayor gives away shoes and his face to the papers,
Warsop baths and the towns lost bogs are paying his wages.

The paper wants us to write about our special town today,
So we buy it from the shops on our minimum pay.

You can be a cynic through choice but not always by birth,
With my feet under the desk it nestles my girth.

Mansfield town is built on Parliament stone but made from her people,
From Robin Hood to Roy Lynk the only thing that’s not crooked is the steeple.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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January 27, 2010 at 3:13 AM
I would like to welcome you to PoetrySoup Jimmy. I also wish you the best in your writing endeavors. If you have questions please feel free to ask anyone here. We are all willing to help and if we don't know the answer we will find someone who does. Love, Carol
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