There are too many people in the town,
Someone ought to cut them down,
They cover pavements, fill the bars,
Clutter up the roads with cars.
Bodies packed at every till,
Samantha, Wayne and Little Bill,
Push-chairs crammed with squalling brats,
Raining down like dogs and cats.
Double-decker bloody folk,
Humanity, God’s little joke,
Streaming, teaming, over-flowing,
Bustling, hustling, coming, going.
In the malls and in the markets,
Trundling over polished parquet,
Filled up busses, filled up trams,
Filled up buggies, filled up prams.
Oh for a feudal city clearance
To grant to me no interference.