The Market Hall Clock
The clock tower,
With its spike and ball,
stood outside the market hall,
They pulled it down,
What a mess they made,
Just another 60s craze.
The clock added character,
to the town,
Even though there was no sound,
It stood all so still proud and content,
Marking the hours that we spent.
The clock was old,
Or so we’re told,
It had a feature all of its own,
But people came along,
Thought they knew best,
History will be the test.
The 72 foot Italian style clock tower,
Was a focal point,
And people stared at it in awe,
to say the least.
But time runs on and things change,
It is such a shame,
Bulldozers came that was the end,
No protest could persuade their plans to amend.
Down the clock came,
All was in vain,
Rubble at the site,
Muck and Dust! All of the grime,
Oh what a crime.
Why cant we keep a link to the past,
Is our history not worth a blast,
People come along!! Think their a star,
Nothing at all is what they are.
The tower didn’t fit in,
with their minimalist plan,
So a beautiful clock,
went down the pan.
It would appear they have,
learnt something from the past,
Adding colour to the town hall block,
And on the concrete stairwell, a clock.
Church street is just the same,
Spending money that’s all in vain,
Can’t leave things alone,
This town was my home.
Things have changed we all know that,
Towns and cities Government grows,
Every body thinks they know best,
They know nothing at all.
By Patricia Preec (still a Blackburn Lass)