Occasional green

Bursting through winters blanket

Ready to spring forth

 —

Steep terraced houses

Red brick and narrow backings

In a northern town

 —

Automated colleague

Announces stations coldly

In modern bland speak

 —

Slow train to the coast

Pass back gardens, spick and span

The wind arrives first

 —

Castle overlooks

Emporiums still dealing

With the end of days

 —

Street sleeping litter

Neon is tomorrow's failure

In a bed of lies

 —

No Scarborough fair

No herbs, just sugar and tat

Wrapped in plastic dreams

 —

Damp old undercroft

Sustains the grey modern world

And it's novel views

 —

Wrought iron footbridge

Resting on great stone pillars

Crossing the valley

 —

Red and pseudo gold

Greased cables, haul you troopers

Up and down again

 —

More plains, ironed flat

Crossed by hedgerows here and there

Hiding timid deer

 —

Chem trails against blue

Church spire against all reforms

Old oak stands aslant

 —

Old ruined abbey

By the slow flowing river

By a crooked path

 —

This flower of York

Made rotten by broken rails

Yet the sun still shines