The river of myth
Silent unfussy diligent
Frees itself from the Cherwell
As it strolls through the University parks
It lies low
Baring its bed
Through waters clear
Small fish weave
Past an old beer can
This is Oxford
Romantic and nostalgic
Borrowing classics
To lend itself fables
That bright young things
Can take round the world
The rollers shifting punts
From low river to high
Passed the abandoned nudist camp
Where some people sighed
In summer the myth grows
And blooms like flowers and trees
Kisses on summer lawns
Caressed by a royal breeze
The world belongs to us
Said the Aryans to their muses
We shall all become conservative MP’s
And develop all our ruses
Summer Ball season
Gowns and black tie
There are no unemployed here
And no homeless to hear cry
The land that time forgot
Is the place they all remember
And once a year another brood
Appear in September
To keep the cycle of privilege
On the road paved with gold
Where confidence is presented
As something to be sold
Like people
Down a river
©JMcN2012
