2 January 2013
In backstreet burnt out London there's a racket going on But there's a network of protectors you can place your faith upon See the shady fella, with his face obscured by smoke We all know his name, he's an ordinary bloke A slippery one at best but a diamond in the rough Now the war is on we'll turn to him when times are tough For he wears the wardens hat with a glint that lights his eye The blitz is in full swing, and he'll help us all get by But not before he's poked around the debris and has found The fruits of neighbours labours left abandoned on the ground Evacuation to the underground means a bumper pay day The city tries to hide while he has your things away Call it robbery or looting, with the Stukas overhead Lighting up the night and leaving hundreds dead Your friendly local warden's got his eye on your front room And when he's had his fill he disappears into the gloom Mr. Churchill has decreed that we will fight them on the beach There's an enemy at home and your trust he's keen to breach You may have even known him in the days before the war Undercover of the sadness he robs the rich and poor Shops and houses empty the warden takes his pick Looting from the bombed while the smoke is extra thick And when the morning comes and the siren says all clear Trust me, I'm the warden, and while the wars on I'll be here...
Inspired by something I learnt on QI last night.
The Wardens Way • Opuss № I