Once the ports kept freighters full
Of iron and coal, slate and wool
Marinas occupy the docks
With bistros and apartment blocks
Where a factory used to stamp and rage
Now there's an annual car-rally stage
Railway tracks grow dull with rust
The rotting trucks are filled with dust
Hands fall idle for want of tasks
'What of Welsh industry?' someone asks
The answer is becoming clear:
It would be a good idea.
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