As I sit here and pen this verse
The streets outside are getting worse
Though mainly calm, and seldom bitter,
One thing gets my goat… the litter

Fag ends, bottles, milk shake straws,
Old cans propped up against shop doors,
Save us all, Captain! My Captain!
Packaging kebabs come wrapped in

Napkins from the coffee shops
Which someone used to wipe his chops
The debris strewn by life’s sad dregs
All ends up swirling round my legs

Flowerbeds once shrieked civic pride,
Now rubbish-filled, the plants have died
What to do with litter tramps?
String them up from our new lamps!