Roadworks, roadworks everywhere, But where’s the workforce?
No one’s there.
Green light, red light, traffic queuing, Work in progress?
Nothing doing.
Driving by in broad daylight, We see each deserted site, Surrounded by an orange fence,
What’s it for? It makes no sense.
But on a dark and spooky night, When conditions are just right,
If we were to drive by then,
Would we see the phantom roadworks men?
Mary Askew
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