Bylaw

In council halls where quiet sits,
A byelaw stands, its purpose writ—
A gentle rule, in modest print,
That guides the folk and steadies hint.

From street‑side bins to park’s soft green,
It shapes the life we daily glean,
Not shouted loud, nor fiercely bent,
But woven deep in civic intent.

So when we walk the neighbourhood,
We thank the byelaw’s quiet good—
A thread of order, calm and true,
That keeps our Britain safe for you.