Britons will work,
they will not shirk
preparing for tourists
some four years from now.
Britons have know-how,
at their feet we bow.
Regions will need
a deep-clean creed;
cleanliness of renown
over city and town...
unemployed off the dole
to take a new role.
Old sites regained,
new contracts named;
the Games will engender
a time to remember,
with money in style
for a short while.
When all work is done,
there should be fun.
Olympic games will shine
but what's the next line?
Unemployment could rise
before our eyes!
One decade on,
I maybe wrong...
but I won't be around
to see trouble abound.
Germans suffered this fate.
'It was too late'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem