In Highfields the shit flows free,
Dogs allowed to dump on me.
My slabs are loose and out of true,
People trip and turn the air blue.
My flags are loose so when it rains,
Folk step on them and splash their legs;
The dirty water clothing stains,
They think this neighbourhood's the dregs.
If I were laid in a posher 'hood,
Then things could really be quite good.
My slabs would be aligned so true
And folk would clean their doggies' poo.