My Cup of Tea

Afternoon tea on mint village greens.
Croquet and cricket and camomile breeze.
A gentleman's greeting - hats tipped in the City
This is my England, my 'cup of tea'.

But clouds have passed over this English idyll
and spores of greed taken hold in the shadows.
Our once-pleasant land is green-sick with fungus.
My tea doesn't taste right; its flavour is bogus.

Green is the colour of money, of greed.
Green is the colour of 'me, me, ME!'

We exchanged bowlers for the red-braced and brash,
who made a mint while the nation's soul crashed.
The Bull's turned septic, the Bear's inflamed.
I spilled my tea and it's burning rage!

Green is the colour of money, of greed.
Green is the colour of 'me, me, ME!'
But our cities are blazing orange and red.
Definitely not my cup of tea, I said.