They walk around, with their arses showing,
Their population, unfortunately growing,
With beat boxes heard, about in the street,
Looking all hard, unfriendly to greet,
Tracksuits dragging, on the floor,
Its no longer paradise, its chav's galore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I sympathise in a BIG way with the sentimnent of this piece... Jx.