Blake at the Tate 2000

BLAKE AT THE TATE, 2000
(sung to an all-too familiar tune)

Your hedgerow angels
Have been flailed away, Billy Boy, Billy.
The tyger's flame
Has almost died, My Boy Billy.

Robin Redbreast's
Cage has gone, Billy Boy, Billy.
But he's fading
Like the skylark's song, My Boy Billy.

Yet cruelty sits
In the human heart, Billy Boy, Billy.
As the hunted hare's cry
Slashes into the brain, My Boy Billy.

Deadly clouds descend
On England's hills, Billy Boy, Billy.
And poison bleeds from
Pleasant pastures green, My Boy Billy.

Fields are built over
With temples of gold, Billy Boy, Billy.
And manacles are forged
In shopping-malls, My Boy Billy.

The city street's still
Wracked with woe, Billy Boy, Billy.
Echo to the beggar's cry
Silenced by the mobile phone, My Boy Billy.

Now dreamers need
To heed your clarion call, Billy Boy, Billy.
And throw off the yoke
Of twisted reason, My Boy Billy.

Awake to the harvest
Of liberty, Billy Boy, Billy.
Make the sun rise
On the darkening green, My Boy Billy.