Gypsy Boy Ravey


Layabout Blues (Prison Letter) - Poem by Gypsy Boy Ravey

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I want to break free and I want out of here
This sh*thole, my mate, is just so bloody queer
Watching the VPs get all the best jobs
While decent lads mate, we get treated like dogs

Everything’s broken and them screws won’t rush
Can’t get a bog roll mate, can’t get a toothbrush
Nothing to do has got me feeling sad
Scratching me ring piece and laid in me pad

All out of baccy and given up hope
Been rolling up teabags just to get a smoke
Could do with a cuppa but sugar’s all gone
Tap on the pipe “have you got any john? ”

“Course I have mate, you can have some of mine”
“Nice one our kid, I’ll just swing you a line”
“I owe you one jonno, Sunday on canteen? ”
But I’ll probably forget, if you know what I mean?

I’m not one for begging but it’s such a farce
Scratting about when in jail on you’re a*se
Wish I could laugh but it just ain’t funny
Trying to get by when you ain’t got no money

Complained on the out about living on dole
Now wish I was back there out of this sh*thole
Starving to death and can’t get any leaner
Gunna have to give in and become a wing cleaner

Or might get on servery and nick me some food
Big tray of grub in me pad like a dude
My pad mate’s down gym but I wouldn’t go
Just can’t be a*sed mate, to walk out the door

Can’t leave me door open or I might get skanked
I’d rob them next door but then I’d get shanked
Ain’t heard nawt from her not even a word
Could do with a postal order from me bird…



(c) varey 2013


Poet's Notes about The Poem

(c) varey 2013

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Poem Submitted: Monday, August 26, 2013

Poem Edited: Monday, August 26, 2013


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