Thursday, May 11, 2017

On The Town

My back teeth are floating,
That means I need a piss,
But I ain't going nowhere with this pint in me fist,
I'm out drinking with Daz,
He fights when he's drunk,
But I need a waz,
Got no time for this punk.
We go down Deansgate,
Spending our dole,
When you got Manchester mates,
Yer never alone.
We move to the Northern Quarter,
Daz wanting a fight,
With the students and yuppies,
Who are out tonight.
Thatcher's Britain, that's how I see it,
Us workers versus the the middle class shit.
That ain't my culture,
It ain't Daz's neither,
We're just out on Deansgate,
Looking for beaver.

This poem is sort of written in the voice of what some people might call "a scally" but their the blokes I grew up with. I don't advocate everything in here but I wanted an honest descriptive n and to be honest I think there's more poetry in looking a birds and having a good fucking ruck than in most so called poetry books 

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