"The Millpond"
		Shaletown

		On the blue-green rising, falling tide
		Breathing in the pebbles
		Sighing out the salt breeze
		Chaff is blowing from the stubble fields
		Leaving the dried earth land it threads the gate
		Tunnel hedges
		Old man's beard
		Sticking to the wild plums
		Old man's beard
		And follows the pot-holed tracks
		That lead to Shaletown
		The ox-man's soul forever turns around
		And ploughs the stubble field
		Caught in the lonely mile
		Between the roads to Shaletown
		He watches the chaff leave his dry brown eye
		And swing over rose-hip stile
		To Shaletown
		Under bronze-red sunset, cobweb clouds
		Dipping to the shadows
		Dancing through the dead trees
		Over carts that struggle up the hills
		Sticking into the sweat and blistered hands
		Nailed sacks flap
		From blackened walls
		Flailing arms to welcome
		From blackened walls
		In to the groaning heart of Shaletown
		The ox-man turns and walks into the wind
		Towards the ceaseless sea
		Ploughing the lonely mile
		As chaff settles in Shaletown
		The machines they groan and the hammers they pound
		As night falls on Shaletown
		The chaff settles in Shaletown