THE STREET

Take a walk
Down any street
Just wander,
Follow your feet.
Unruly children
Gardens neat,
Odd goings on
Not very discreet.
Several fathers
Called Uncle Pete
Scruffy miscreants
Who roam the street.
Wouldn't have thought it
About her at 24
She has a crucifix
Over her door.
Well it takes all sorts
I thought she was sweet,
Until she allowed in dirty Pete,
The amorous postman
Who delivers more than mail
When he walks down the street.
Now Sarah who lives at 48
She seems to have
A revolving garden gate,
Many a man leaves
Disheveled and replete
She works from home
On easy street.
Her old man
Used to hot wire cars,
Before he got caught
He's now behind bars,
Maybe he'll start a clean sheet
When he returns
From his stretch in the scrubs
To life in the street.
The vicar lives at 69
He invites the homeless
Around to dine,
But the buggars drink
All his communion wine,
Its alcoholic at least
And tastes very sweet
And the homeless get wasted
Down on freebie street.
I'm the one who lives at 23
Big Ford on the drive
Lights on my apple tree,
I mind my own business
So don't bother me,
By all means say hello
But then retreat
As I keep myself to myself
On this odd street.

Phil Hall  February 2014