We have few tall buildings hereabouts! Mind you we do have pigeons and perverts just like everywhere else.
I wish I'd written this one:

Lincolnshire Song
John Sykes

Time stands still on the Lincolnshire fenland
Which the sea once embraced in its watery arms
The dykes and the ditches cut deep their incisions
And the only landmarks are the churches and farms

When the rain tumbles down the earth it drinks deeply
The plough turns it over like chocolate spread
And the toiling farm workers keep their yearly promise
That this nations belly is constantly fed

The pageant of history is marked in the topsoil
The riches and relics lie under each sod
There are secrets that will forever be hidden
While the towers of the churches play homage to God

A man is a speck on the Lincolnshire landscape
A thought that is made the more poignant at night
As you stand underneath the starry umbrella
Til the moon rubs it eyes in the clear morning light

Spring cleaning the fields in life giving sunshine
Turns brown soil to green then yellow and red
The women bend backs beheading the tulips
To strengthen the bulb in its peaty bed

In the dark days of Hitler the Lancaster bombers
Took death and destruction to heaven knows where
The struck a return course for Lincoln Cathedral
And staggered back home on a wing and a prayer

I've heard people say that the hills of the Pennines
Are more pleasing to view than the fields of the Fens
But look to the sky the clouds the horizon
And watch the slow sunset when days at an end.