MOTORWAY

[I'm on the badger's side ... ]

Over the hills, not far away
Runs the grand new Motorway.
The Downs are flattened and the trees are gone,
But still the Motorway roars on.
Thundering Juggernauts all overtaking,
Stench of exhaust and screech of braking,
Speed and noise like a slice of Hell,
Where is it going to? I can’t tell,
But over the hills, not far away
Runs the grand new Motorway.
Look! There’s a badger! Oh, the poor thing’s dead,
Squashed quite flat by a man named Fred.
He didn’t see the badger,
So the badger is dead,
But roaring up the Motorway,
On goes Fred.
Three lane highway, three huge lorries,
Loaded with stone from hill-gashed quarries.
Three abreast they’re coming:
Is it me squashed dead,
Just like the badger
That was squashed by Fred?
Wherever I am going on this speed sodden track,
It’s likely to be worse when I’m coming back.
Over the hills, not far away
Runs the grand new Motorway.
The Downs are flattened and the trees are gone,
But still the Motorway roars on.
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