On This Mountain

On this Mountain

On this mountain of steel and glass I stand, unrivalled, unsurpassed
Surveying the green fields below, the brown hills, and cruel blue sea so vast
The realm at my command has no limit, no boundary, no imposed frontier on it
Disputed by another. All power is vested in me, or in my brother.
Just as I stand unflinching on this lofty eyrie, guarding against seaborne foe
My twin stands at my back, ready to take up arms and strike a mighty blow
For the Town we are so proud to see as the only place we could ever be
I stand on my Tower (my Mountain) as the Mersey rolls out to the sea
My brother on his, ever watchful for any threat from South or East
Together we protect this Utopian idyll against invasion by Man or Beast
My Town, Your Town, Our unique and wonderful Home Town
A place where you know the People will never let you down
Six in a bed under Grandma's old overcoat
Poor but happy, and yet as warm as toast!

And yet. The view from this man-made mountain, my lofty lookout nest
Is marred and scarred by the blight and sight of lesser, unattractive messes
Though eagle-eyed, I sometimes wish I were blind. I stare in disbelief as I find
The City I love, it seems, is having a Festival of Litter. I am sad: ashamed, bitter
In these mountains of rubbish, detritus, discarded wrappings and empty cans
There is no pride, no feeling, no sense of value or significance
These mini-mountains grow all around, hour by hour and day by day
Festering sores on the City's pores. Someone, please take them away!
These eyesores encourage environmental destruction, disease, decay, despair
Vermin and vile creatures vanquish the virtuous, as apathy pools everywhere
The once-clean sea air now tastes polluted, foul. I gasp for air: I choke
The stench of death offends my breath. What's happened to these proud folk?
Face up to the facts. Clean up your act. Heed this call, this ominous warning
A toxic smog may lay o'er Liverpool Bay: no difference 'twixt night and morning