The Dying Town

 

The little town is dying since they closed the timber mill.
Macquarie Street has dealt a lethal blow
And listened to the agitators, gave into their will;
So family after family has to go.

Oh, there were many comments and submissions from the town,
But higher powers listened with deaf ears.
Agenda was already set, the mill was closing down;
The townsfolk had to cope with their worst fears.

There was a sort of offer made to ease the town's distress,
An offer of a small and scrubby stand
Of useless trees to feed a mill, and maybe one would guess
The power brokers didn't know the land.

The value of the real estate fell nearly out of sight:
Three bedroom houses' prices set so low.
That little town's economy was ruined over night
As one by one the families had to go.

The school's been decimated, there's not half the pupils there
That once had been in early glory days.
There's no school band to play at what was once the annual fair;
That part of life is now a far off phase.

And if all that's not bad enough, it seems there's worse to come
For this sad place that's struggling not to die.
For housing that's dirt cheap is very welcoming to some,
And there's no work of any kind nearby.

It's now the choice of many who like living off the dole,
And drugged out in a constant state of high.
They want no chance of work, and they are killing this town's soul,
The wasters who would bleed the system dry.

© Tom Chapman 2008