I went to the home of a tired old toiler,
A council house with huge TV,
Mother’s Day cards, and a crucifix
Prominent in the hall.

From there I went to a rich man’s house,
A mansion on the hill.
Crunchy gravel on the drive
Flowers on the sill.

I heard about a City Gent,
who had a “Proper Job”
All tailored suits and fountain pen,
And journeys up to Town.

Fountain pens and tailored suits
Are maybe not for me
My suits, and demons,
Middle class, off the peg, and tame.

Where is the edge of the stockbroker belt?
How is culture now defined?
Who shall say what’s posh or not?
Who is, and who’s not, refined?

A line ‘twixt good and evil
Goes through every human heart
Where is the edge of the stockbroker belt?
How shall it now be found?

I went to see a play
In the County School big hall.
I could see that edge right then and there
Directly through that hall.