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.
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