Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans. Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy, We will pardon Thy Mistake. But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be, Don't let anyone bomb me. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
It's strange that those we miss the most Are those we take for granted. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
What the Londoner sees in his mind’s eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
People's backyards are much more interesting than their front gardens, and houses that back on to railways are public benefactors. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
Oh! full Surrey twilight! importunate band! Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand! — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
“Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death!” — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
A whispering and watery Norfolk sound Telling of all the moonlit reeds around. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
And behind their frail partitions Business women lie and soak, Seeing through the draughty skylight Flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
