Lisa Cresswell Wilkinson
Asbo City-Fun - Poem by Lisa Cresswell Wilkinson
Crash, smash a flying bottle
Enters my back yard at full throttle
I missed the little blighters which is more than a pity
But thats just simple run of the mill when you live in ASBO City
The party starts at twelve a.m. the music plays til three
I wouldnt really mind so much
But THE WOMBLES aint for me!
Up pulls a local taxi van
Intoxicated youths on board
They've hopped over next doors garden gate
Coz the fare they cant afford
The impatient taxi driver rings on the neighbours bell
Until he finally realises a rat he starts to smell
'Hey mate' he says 'I dont suppose'
'You've nine unruley sons'
'They owe me ten quid taxi fare and have left their bag of guns'
'I'll sue the little buggers if my boss gives me the boot
And what the hell am I meant to do, with their bloody bag of loot'! !
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