East End Wall Poem by C Richard Miles

Before you ’ave a butcher’s, Miss.
’Scuse me, if I tell you this:
I is just a wall; I truly is.
’Onest, Miss.
Nuffink more, just brix
But Banksy’s put me in a fix:
’E’s gorn an’ daubed me.
It’s appalled me.
It’s gorn and knocked me straight for six,
’Cos they’ve come an’ shot an’ took their pix.
I’m quite put out,
As they scream an’ shout,
When they make me out,
To be some sorta celebrity, no doubt.
It does my ’ead in.
I’m just dreadin’.
It’s absurd.
’Aven’t they ’eard
I is just a wall?
That’s all.