In his latest poem in his 'Evidently Spencertown' series, Spencer Robertshaw reflects upon one of society's most feared and despised social forces
You’d cause a priest to join the deceased And easily make a nun swear Every time you walk into a room People wish that you weren’t there The knack you have for malevolence Is honed to a fine art You hang around even when you're gone Just like a well timed fart As you approach they shout cockroach Your battledress births disgust Dismay and hatred boil from within It’s you they never trust A curse among good people Misery is your mirth. Our quill flows, the sentence made A testament that has no worth You take food from all innocent Laugh as children starve We all know the evil you represent Into our souls you carve We dare not travel anywhere Your pestilence is pure plague No matter how hard we stare Your full work is at best vague Here comes the revolution Brothers and sisters unite End all persecution So all you traffic wardens away and shite!