WESTGATE WHINGE

(With apologies to Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan.
Tune - The Sergeant’s Song, Pirates of Penzance.)

When I take my daily wander up the Westgate, [Up the Westgate],
I long to use a useful Motor Bus, [Motor Bus],
But the Buses don’t suit my ways up the Westgate, [Up the Westgate],
So this song is written just to make a fuss. [Make a fuss].
When Community-y Taxes, they are needed, [They are needed],
I mourn the lost and useful Motor Bus, [Motor Bus],
But petitions to our Council are not heeded, [Are not heeded],
So my sole recourse is just to make a fuss.
Ah me!
When tax paying obligation’s to be done, [To be done],
A Tax Payer’s lot is not a happy one. [Happy one].

The shops I loved to visit are a-closing, [Are a-closing],
And they offer only lots of empty space, [Empty space],
Are the Officers employed by me all dozing? [Me all dozing].
Is my bus-less shop-less state a sheer disgrace? [Sheer disgrace].
The pavements that I walk on are uneven, [Are uneven],
And they often tip me flat upon my face, [On my face],
It cannot be surprising that I’m grieving, [That I’m grieving],
For the City that was once a lovely place.
Ah me!
When tax paying obligation’s to be done, [To be done],
A Tax Payer’s lot is not a happy one. [Happy one].

When there's rain, the surface water gets a-flooded [Gets a-flooded]
For the drains are never cleared out, so it’s said. [So it’s said],
My little home can fetch up sadly muddied, [Sadly muddied],
While the gulls and pigeons triumph overhead, [Overhead],
And so I’m seeking comfort in this writing, [In this writing],
Which I’ll distribute by email and by Fax. [And by Fax.]
The despoiling of my City it is frightening, [It is frightening].
And the only certainty is paying Tax.
Ah me!
When tax paying obligation’s to be done, [To be done],
A Tax Payer’s lot is not a happy one. [Happy one].
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