Treated like rubbish
Pure garbage
With signs that had the words
No Blacks, no dogs, no Irish
Now blacks can proudly call themselves British
Many came with the Windrush
The descendants of those who were made to live as slaves
Their forefathers would be turning in their graves
Because of what is taking place today
In the 21st century
The issue of broken families
Yet the black man and woman
Are more interested in integrating
Into a racist society
Rather than fix a community
Plagued by continued tragedy
But now we can wave the flag
That union jack
And those signs of no Blacks, no dogs, no Irish
Have long been thrown away
We can say we're Black British.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem