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Between here and nowhere
There is a sign
It marks a crossroads
That no-one uses
It says ‘Gallows Seat’
A poetic name
For the place where
So many died.

Forgotten now, overgrown
Graves without stones
No church in sight
For here lie the bones
Of the convicted and poor
Who danced at the end of the rope

And beneath the ground
Beneath the road
Decaying, forgotten there lie
The mortal remains
Of a man, much maligned
With a stake through his heart
And the lemon in his mouth

For between here and nowhere
Is where we put
The people we want to forget
The ones we hide
The ones who scare
Outsiders, criminals, the ill

‘Not in my back yard!’ We shout
About HS2, the Tram, new homes
And it’s nothing new, it’s always been
That where we want these things
Is between here and nowhere
Somewhere we’ve never heard about
Nowhere that we want to be.

 

(c) Chris Johnson 2016