In a city of six million souls

How can anyone be alone?

Come and walk a while with me

To see how this can be done.

I bet you thought this poem

Was the old song by Ralph Mctell

But these are the ‘new’ streets of London

My personal kind of hell.

The forgotten hero has died

A long long time ago

No one cared and no one cried

Everyone here’s on the go.

Old ladies still carry their homes

In two old carrier bags

But nobody pays them any mind

Now they’re just old hags.

The all night café is closed

No one drinks tea anymore

Sorry to ruin your song Ralph

But it isn’t like before.

So don’t you tell me that you’re lonely

No don’t say for you the sun don’t shine

Walk with me a while through the streets of my London

I bet you you’ll change your mind.

Poor Ralph must be turning in his grave

And I don’t think he is even dead yet

And if he’s not he’s bound to want some royalties

I guess that’s a sure bet.

But the streets of my London

Are not what Ralph’s were about

Mine are more that in the middle of six million people

No one can hear you shout.

Weeks can easily go by

Without me speaking to another human being

People pass me on the street

They’re looking but they are not seeing.

So how can you tell me you’re lonely

And say for you that the sun don’t shine

Let me take you by the hand and show through

The streets of London, if Ralph Mctell doesn’t mind.