And so they built it here
this city of incomers and refugees
where Boudicca’s chariot
first asserted her cause of public liberty.
They built it here because
our rivers run with ink,
enduring love and dark materials.
This place of language, pubs and churches
of ballads, plays and verses
where Dame Julian dared to conjured God as Mother.
Here where they threw wide the library doors
and said these shelves, these books, these words are yours.
Here where we du diffrunt, gob and lip
the job lot of us struck off the papal list.
Here where the Wensum meets the Yare
looking east to Europe.
Here where we fight for what is fair
the rights of man and woman.
Here the home of Hansard
and the first local rag
where hacks first dispatched in ink
the savagery of battle.
Here the home of Martineau,
of Bale, Borrow, Fry and Sewell
a plus ton of languages
darned with dialect
and printed on the page.
A thousand years of love and genius and rage
dispatched from this place
to change the world beyond.
And so they built it here.