On Hackney Marsh the poplars stand forlorn –
The dingy old pavilion built of bricks
Dilapidated – pot-holed carpark. Mourn
With us! They’ve come to fell T Forty-six,
A blameless poplar standing in the way
Of progress, victim of the shady tricks
Of those who seek to justify their pay
By filling up the open space with cars
And noise and fumes, converting green to grey.
The trees, the birds, these spaces all are ours!
We want to keep them green and free for all,
And not enclosed by roads and gates with bars.
The few remaining poplars still stand tall,
Confined behind the new pavilion’s wall.
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