End Poverty–In Swindon

Wise men once said:
“Never be sorry,
For flying with your flock”.
A load of shite,
If you ask us.

A bottle of Frij,
Gave me flu.
A shameful loss,
That warm summer night.

For Uncle John,
Needs a wee,
Against a tree,
The filthy sod!

Diary of a fag hag;
The woofter said no.
What could I do?
Hide in my shed.

In shit I trod,
After eating chilli,
Just for t’craic.
A chip off the old block.