Wednesday, 4 November 2009


Bang on the door,
And run away,
And of course
Wait for them to say
“Fuck off!”
Before launching
Your eggs at their head.
And when they’ve gone
Transfer the dog shit
From your pocket to
Their letter box
And knock again.
Oh the delights
Of tonight, when our
Mischief ran riot,
And those neighbours
We hated
Were treated to
All manner of
Frivolous vandalisms,
And kept their washing
Lines idle, and a
Bucket of suds
To scrub naughty
Words off walls,
And locked up their
Cats and dogs.
But now there
Appears no need of it,
As its disease has spread
To the rest of the
Year’s evenings,
Where kids are more
Ambitious with
Their viciousness.

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