Rows of Victorian terraced houses were destroyed in Gaywood to make way for the car park for a new supermarket.

What things these bricks and mortar saw
when families' laughter filled their walls:
what history has long since gone
and now they follow, with their fall.
Instead of the terraced row before,
flat tarmac will, their place, fulfil
and walled backyards will be no more,
no grass to mow or earth to till.
In days to come, even the memory
of what once stood here, will fade away.
And this flat mass will doubtless fill
with motor cars rushing by, each day.
Each home demolished tolls progress' doom,
each brick it's silent tear,
how sad our children will not see
the history that was here.
Yellow iron tears into aged walls,
pulling down their solid strength.
And dustclouds billow as each falls
like mutterings of contempt.
When all of these have passed away
and the tarmac has been laid,
a Tesco will adorn this site -
what price has Gaywood paid?