Gypsy Ballad

In the New South
gypsies' tall greys are tethered
alongside Fords and Peugeots
with their smuggler's trove
of Moroccan kif, half-
hidden in the boot.

In the New South
the modern Moor is lighter
and looks down on his sub-
Saharan neighbours
with their DVDs and Raybans
a modern pirate's loot.

In the New South
the Guiri mangles Spanish,
drowns out cultured conversation,
views the ventas and
the restaurants through the
smoke of his cheroot.

In the New South,
Lorca's celestial children
have left their native Cordoba
to the northern, naïve tourists
from the colder, older nations,
by the modern pilgrim's route.