What A Nefarious Newcomer Might Not Instantly Perceive As Worthwhile Is Often Valueless
Drinking round the clock
And spewing round the town
Wearing just a sock
As a drunkard's crown
Is now the emblem of our race
The pockmark on our shameful face
On the harbour bar
Speeding round the bend
And spilling in the ditch
Trying to pretend
You're rolling with the rich
Is now the emblem of our race
The hallmark on our tarnished place
All besmirched in tar
Contributors: | TG, Roland, p, loaf. |
Poem finished: | 22nd November 2005 by Roland. |