Thursday, 12 March 2009

Whitehall, here we come

So farewell then, old Ergon House
You welcomed all – Toff, Chav or Scouse
We hot-desked well – We didn’t grouse
And now your time has gone

The light was bad, the space was cramped
But cyclists liked your curvy ramp
The Gentleman’s loos were always damp
And now your time has gone

And so to Whitehall Place we fly
Yes now it’s time to say goodbye
Please do forgive me if I cry
For now your time has gone

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