The trigger pulled-
A voice rings out-
The rallying cry-
“No turning back”
But no-one hears in Soho.
No anger here-
A man sleeps soundly-
On a bench supplied
By Westminster Council-
Miss Dearie sings— “Oh ‘deed I do”
And Ronnie welcomes strangers in.
In Soho where the days are long-
Unhindered from the heavy gong—of rule—divide—and masquerade.
Where wine is warm—and cheese grows soft-
And basil smells—of forget-me-not-
Where drums sound out a beat of peace-
New languages—to learn—to meet-