Weaver's Gate

Not till the loom was silent And the shuttle ceased to fly When history unrolled the scroll And reveals the reason why. The darkest thread as needful In the weavers skilful hand As the cloth of gold and silver Of an industrious ruin greed had planned. No amount of corporate education Could quell our simple brain No grammar association Yet unravelled the master’s pain. They took away our ambition Off shore was their devious plan Tried so hard to pick our pockets Yet our skill could clothe a man. His call was for cheap labour Some call it slavery Now we buy at a thousand per cent The product of knavery! First eight lines adapted from anon poem, The Weaver, speculation wrote, by a weaver in/from Colne, Lancs England last Century, wrote originally for/in a religious format, My version, here. Political. © Harry J Horsman 2015