Knocking on doors and running away
'' I know it was you, you little git''
They would say.
Playing at the park flying high on the swing
Stuffing our faces untill we felt sick
Laughing at boys, taking the mick.
Chewing gum in hair and scruffed shoes
Knees that bled easily bruised
Singing rhyms and skipping down the street
saying ''hiya'' to people you meet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem