A soppy bit of whimsy about all the unicorns leaving Sheffield and going to Manchester.
All of the unicorns are leaving Sheffield
Snorting and stamping, now they’re on their way.
Just look, and make a wish, and you’ll see
Out on the hills today, a little magic:
A flash of silver horn, a rainbow mane
The sound of golden hoofbeats on Snake Pass.
If you don’t pay attention, you could pass
And never see the unicorns of Sheffield
One of them might be showing off her mane
And she could stand directly in your way,
But if your eyes aren’t open to the magic
You’ll sigh and walk around, and never see.
It took a little time for me to see
The unicorns of Sheffield. I would pass
Them, unaware, oblivious to magic
I thought there could be no such thing in Sheffield
I’d see the sparkles and I’d turn away
And think “just stay aloof, and in the main
You’ll seem mature” I’d shun the gleaming manes
and tails and sparkling horns. I wouldn’t see
The magic if I turned my head away.
But unicorns don’t quit. It came to pass
That I could see the unicorns in Sheffield.
And, after all, I still believed in magic.
And when they’ve vanished, will there still be magic?
Will there be rainbows here, without their manes?
For all the unicorns are leaving Sheffield.
Go out and look this weekend and you’ll see
Them galloping along the Pennine Way
And grazing in the woodland at Snake Pass.
And if you see them, call out, as you pass:
“Sheffield will miss you. We will miss your magic.
We know it’s time for you to go away,
But still we wish, so much, that you’d remain
With us forever more. When will we see
You all again? When will you come to Sheffield?”
Just maybe, unicorns will pass this way
Again. And maybe Sheffield will be magic.
But now it’s mainstream. Nothing more to see.
Tom Juniper Poetry 