“Get ready, friend,” Goodfellow orderèd
As both Colonial Marines did walk
Towards Del Naja’s infamous Downtown.
’Twas thought by many to be much worse than
The desert that surrounded the city,
And certainly it seemed to be the truth,
For desecrated buildings, interspersed
With tenements, dilapidated homes
And bars where criminals could freely go
About whatever crimes they so desired
Littered the landscape in all their stupid shame.
Graffitied walls marked borders of the gangs,
Displayed the words of wisdom of the fools,
And beckoned vile men with wooing calls.
The windows, being barred with iron wall,
Transformed the sorry halls into a cage
From which none could escape, once they were in
Except through purchase, the price being their lives,
Or, sometimes, in rare cases, for the men,
The price was forfeiture of their dear wives.