Down by the river

all along the dock.

You could find your way to Silvertown

by smell alone.

The clattering of bones

by the dockland rats

made you tremble as you

sniffed through the smog.

Stevedores and dockers slogged

through dark, black dockyards

heaving goods ashore

in the dawning grey.

The Silvertown explosion

flattened all about it,

but dockland shifted freight

and the rats gnawed on.

Now the smog is cleaned away,

all the dockers put in boxes.

Dockland stands in silence,

reaching for the skies.

Silvertown is fragrant,

past the still dock waters,

and a multi storey palace

teems with dockland rats.