Friday, 12 June 2015

‘It runs through our blood’

‘It runs through our blood’

A new day dawns, another cold February morning commencing.
The penetrating bitter wind chills me to the bones as the river punches fiercely at my boat.

Beads of sweat trickle down my forehead whilst I heave yet another hulk of cargo, the pride of my master only urges me to work harder.
The drone of men rushing about along the docks buzzes in my ears.

For generations my ancestors have looked upon my dear family as they work on the Thames,
For generations our hands have been battered by the cruel weather.
The Thames runs through our city, it courses through our blood.
We powered the city and kept it flowing, our jobs all but gone.

Our story still lives on… 

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