****good Old England? **** Poem by Michael Moorcroft

When the lights go out,
They grab their knives,
They sneak about,
And snuff out lives.

They ride on bikes,
And light their smokes,
They all wear Nikes,
They scare old folks.

They hang round parks,
And Vodka they swig,
And circle like sharks,
At a passing pig.

What a mess we’re in,
The empire long crumbled,
The country a shambles,
So many problems.

Good old England?

© Michael Moorcroft October 16th 2009