T'was the morn after Stephen's and the nightcrawlers had been out,

Those effin' little barstewards they're 100% pure lout,

My car roof bashed in and my aerial ripped apart,

A beautiful bright day, spoiled from the start.

The hoodied, the spotted, the hormone filled lanks, some short of a full load, the rest thick as planks,

So here grows our society, the next generation in utero, I'd like to send the whole lot in a rocket to Pluto.

So what's to be done to reclaim the streets, from the empty headed thugs and the spineless little creeps?

Do we wait in fear and shoot a la Nally, or round them all up into a ball alley?

For my own little town my heart does dismay, but it's not over yet, who'll join in the fray?

Dented Roof, Snapped Aerial, Mindless *&%&%ing Thugs

Other cars down the hill are missing their wing mirrors.

© Copyright 2006 by the author(s)/photographer(s) and www.castlebar.ie

Top of Page