Folkestone, Hythe and District’s sand

Borders south, while further north

There lies a very different land

Folkestone, Hythe and District’s strand

Facing east cross brining seas

Lies eerie still and all at peace

Another little village more

A few square miles of added shore

And very different would it be

Buildings razed and all brought down

And tunnels riddling under ground

And orphans’ cries the only sound

As if the rolling hills of Kent

Hid irate hoards of angry men

‘mid pastures turned belligerent

Another little village more

A few square miles of added shore

How very different could it be

The 102 from Dover town

Goes up and down and all around

Imagine every town’s torn down

Envisage every once-green field

Pocked and cleaved and made to yield

Invaded now our Holy Weald

Another little village more

A few square miles of added shore

What difference would it make?

The ground beneath would still not quake

No government’s cold hold on Kent

Would rail then rant then fume then vent

No profiteering corporation

Would survey townships salivating

At contracts for their restoration

Another little village more

A few square miles of added shore

Now empty of its sovereign nation

Folkestone, Hythe and District’s grand

The surface same but not the land

Here, smiles abound on every hand

But there it’s not the same at all

There the land, it’s getting small

On ev’ry hope there hangs a pall

Another little village gone

A few square miles of added war