Hundred years war.

There is where the workers toil
in steel and silver grey,
And here is where their bosses coil
themselves up tight all day.
There cock and duck and na’then thrive,
and creased blue collar wit,
Here bud and marrow bone survive,
amidst the art school shit.
Rare arctic primates roam the streets,
and Tinsley Park still works,
Whereas above there’s Prussian chiefs,
and brand new building perks.
For there is Sheffield in the hills,
with warrens for its labour,
And here is Leeds with trousered bills,
more Rome like than its neighbour.