Hunger Marches

I've stood, on the banks of the Tyne..
next the groynes where the fishermen
cast,
I've smelled the salt air and the brine,
as ferries from Norway roll passed,

and I felt the grinding of time..
in the great strikes of the twenties
on mass..
wee Jarrow lads marching from
the mines, for a fishie for
the bairnes and their lass..

How could you ditch this
haven..
.. leave all your
families behind?
to earn but a crust in a prison.
in Earth's bowels at the bottom
of a mine..?

their bellies were starvin"
for a job ..they left
their homes by the sea..
and came down to
industrial Yorkshire..
for pennies..
so they could be free..

Why do governments trash..
the ordinary working men..?
throw them out for scrap..
so the few can make
millions times ten..

They closed their ship building,
and steel..
they closed the black heart
of coal..
put them on hunger march
for real..
when there's nowt to come
from the dole.

And now it"s global..
we can' t march as
Jarrow once did..
You only dig yourself
an hole..
and the Elite nail down
the lid.