Thursday, November 12, 2015

Dear London

It just might help if I compose
A list of my main London woes
It's worth a try I guess, here goes:

What is this black stuff in my nose?

Fine yes, the city never sleeps
But roars awake with glass and beeps

Dawn chorus you are mighty shrill
Through my single glazed and sill

And lest we not forget the trains
Bright hearses for our spent remains

Grab me, grope me, push me hard
I'll pay you with my Oyster card

We have sunk in your dark belly
Sleepless nights and box set telly

On we march, persistent herd
'Privacy' a term absurd

Competition rough and rife
Dreaming of the country life

Thought it would be wondrous - Psych!
Drink your way through
And poor as you like

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