Britain will not be found in its cities but its fields,
Today I came across a well singing a sorrowful song,
Peering down was a cavern,
Dark.
Soggy.
Moist.A primitive construction, pathetic really,
How easily I could make the stone tumble,
Kick in the bucket till its worth was null,
Shove fabric into the hole as to cover the light,Yet I peered in,
Inside was a girl,
All she does is sing and nobody hears her,
This hole is damp with tears and my feet are cold