the rebuilding of london bridge

broken,stuped low,london bridge is broken
its priests are wedding men to men,
the queen is tired of speaking out loud
its been once upon a time since margaret arrived
to steer the wheels of the ship,the iron lady did
but now i see brixton and peckham
all short of the sun that brings the light
and minutes are there being wasted away
into the thin air of no yesterdays,but remorses
that we frown when we ponder on such atrocities
that makes murder,and men slay each other
but there is no respite,no sober hour to mourn
if progress there lies from a fall,there was mourning less
and no time to releive spilled milk,but milk the cow
while we get our spades to rebuild this ancestry
that has lasted for more ages comparable to the sun
and in the building block of concrete moral
we there form each layer,brick by brick
there ,no more sleeping,or lieing of a lazy dog
but agile compatriots,and men of true valour
to march into the age of a standing london bridge