You're standing on a giant mound of waste
You're here for a television programme
On recycling in Mumbai – wow, how great!
Do that again, please, let the viewers see
A little boy scavenges on the tip
It's such a vibrant form of poverty
The recycling rate here's second to none
The boy's standing in sewage, in bare feet
You think that's good? You must be a moron
Once London had the same kind of squalor
Mudlarks and toshers probed filth for treasure
In the stinking river was cholera
The poor's innocence is a fallacy
They are not better because they have less
To envy their life is hypocrisy
You peer winsomely at the camera
I'll miss it here, but I won't miss that though
A crusted brown sewer rat slithers by
Developers want to push this away
How beastly. Your white face now appears strained
Course they do. Ever been to Bermondsey?
The poor get moved out all the time, don't squeal
They also get street lamps, clinics and schools
Some of them lose out, some don't, that's the deal
Some get the things that people like you blame –
Like motor cars. You rich town-bred Greenies
Poverty is so charming. What a shame
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