Generation Text

There's a chip shop horror every Saturday night,
Tank topped, tanked up boys are looking for a fight,
Girls are fighting each other for position at the taxi rank,
Whilst another throws her guts up outside of Barclays bank.

The kebab outlet struggles to keep itself on track,
A lad knocks off a coppers helmet purely for the craic,
Realtunes and polytunes are heard every couple of feet,
And the lamp lights reflect off the damp and shiny street.

Hoodlums are exchanging threats from across the road,
Trouble is a brewing and things are going to explode,
Wolf whistles are issued by a drunken, cocky lout,
We teeter over the cobbles just wanting to get out.

Groups of girls hand in hand giggle at groups of men,
They look like twenty-somethings but act like they are ten,
The cathedral lets the city know the time is half past one,
In an hours time the litter and the revellers will be gone.


Natalia-Jane

another very nice one!
yes

Thankyou s1owhand that's very kind

Real and good write!