Mrs. Hilda Jones
The
bats were in the bell-towers, the rats were in the cellars,
Listening
to the moaning all around
The
subway escalators were filled with broken men
Queuing
for the underground
And
as the red tube-train it left her looking rather lost
Under
the next-train indicator that flashed Charing Cross
Mrs.
Hilda Jones, hitherto unknown,
Started
to sing her song
Well
at first it wasn't detected just a rhythm in the air
But
it later couldn't be contested it was spreading everywhere
There
were singing paper sellers and humming office dwellers
Swinging
their umbrellas down the stairs
In
the cold December evening the crowds were growing strong
Old
Big Ben gave out a brand new bong
'Cause
Mrs. Hilda Jones, hitherto unknown,
Had
started to sing her song.
In
the City bells were ringing, networks played their tunes
The
information highway jammed, depression turned to boom
The
market makers dropped their stocks and traded round the room
Exchanging
lines that rhyme with "moon and June"
While
MPs chanted order and harmonised for fun
Lloyd
Webber penned an anthem to the new Millennium
'Cause
Mrs. Hilda Jones, hitherto unknown,
Had
started to sing her song.
Returning
to the street where the singing people meet
She
knocks on her neighbour’s door below
And
Mrs Julie Britton puts aside her ginger kitten
And
calls out a tuneful hello
And
the jug-band who've been living all alone in sin
Strike
up sound as she gives their bell a ring
And
Mrs. Hilda Jones, finally come home,
Opens
her mouth and sings.
© Paul Phillips
2009