On the sad demise of the Stratford upon Avon Herald.
So goodbye my old Herald
The last parp on your horn
You’ve been around so very long
Published before Christ was born.
So long my dear old paper
So proud and yet so thin.
Never enough news to go around
That would make your presses sing.
Goodbye to the great headlines
farewell to wicked wit
‘A man’s hat blows off in Meer St’
‘The mystery of white dog shit?’
There’s been nothing quite like you
Your ‘Deaths and all your Births’
There’ll be no more Thursday mornings
To fill me, bursting with mirth.
Goodbye my well-read old friend
resurrection be near?
Who knows that in Australia
Mister Murdoch, he may hear.
Goodbye from me a reader
Hand me a soft tissue
I am praying so very hard
A final bumper issue?
And so, it is now over
All gone, out on a whim
One now only has one last hope
That *Stratford Town might win.