Something about England

They say the immigrants steal the hubcaps
Of respected gentlemen,
They say it would be wine and roses
If England were for Englishmen again...

I saw a dirty overcoat
At the foot of the pillar of the road
Propped inside was an old man
Whom time could not erode. 

You really think it's all new
You really think about it too  
The old man scoffed as he spoke to me: 
I'll tell you a thing or two--

I missed the '14-'18 war,
But not the sorrow afterwards.
With my father dead and my mother ran off
My brothers took the pay of hoods.
The 20s turned, the north was dead
The hunger strike came marching south
At the garden party not a word was said
The ladies lifted cake to their mouths

The next war began and my ship sailed
With battle orders writ in red
In five long years of bullets and shells
We left ten million dead.
The few returned to old Piccadilly
We limped around Leicester Square;
The world was busy rebuilding itself
The architects could not care.

But how could we know when I was young
All the changes that were to come?
All the photos in the wallets on the battlefield
And now the terror of the scientific sun
There was masters and servants and servants and dogs
They taught you how to touch your cap
But through strikes and famine and war and peace
England never closed this gap

So leave me now the moon is up,
But remember all the tales I tell
The memories that you have dredged up
Are on letters forwarded from hell