No Place For A Tourist Poem by Paula Glynn

This is London,
No place for a tourist,
Those tour buses and boats,
A distraction for the tourist,
Not seeing the brutality of London,

For behind the scenes,
Of those theatre shows,
Gangsters reign supreme,
And what they demand goes,

The tourist blind to deceit,
Only worried about the next tour bus,
The timetable of those night trains,
For gangsters and criminals,
Waiting to play those violent games,

The tourist to believe,
London a safe haven,
But not seeing the war,
Between rich and poor,
Not just pickpockets,
But hookahs that want to score,

And drugs are dealt behind the scenes,
The drug addicts dependant,
Behaving in a way obscene,
For dirty streets sit behind those lights,
The streets never paved with gold,
For that lead gangster,
Leaves a body to lay there cold,

The police not to tell tourists these things,
Not wanting millions lost,
From the tourist scene,
For everything costs,
When those drugs are dealt,
And every life lost is felt,

For that body dead in the cold,
Would leave that tourist,
To not buy those souvenirs,
That in every shop are sold,

So remember your trips,
To that exciting London day,
And realize you're lucky,
To live far away,
Because London life is never fair,
Those gangsters to always dare,
You to walk the dark road,
Leaving dead bodies cold,
Where the devil shakes your hand,
And you sell your soul.