Stokes Croft (rap/hip-hop style)
My hat I doff
to the folks
of Stoke’s Croft.
Big on street art –
from the heart.
Form a republic,
people come together,
Tesco get drop kicked.
now art objects
for Stokes’ bards.
Inclusive society –
leave alone the drunks –
Stokes Croft is free.
Tetbury (Byronic style)
Master of his dominion, so adept,
dandying up the dainty Chipping Steps.
Takes his favourite seat at the Snooty Fox,
when newcomers’ arrival his eyes clock.
Silent posture marks his territory –
eyes gaze on females so predatory.
Puffing his chest out and straightening his back,
his bombastic nature hides what he lacks.
Proudly wearing Tetbury Tailor tweed –
class exhibition is clearly his need.
He is the huntsman, they are the quarry,
makes these anxious guests leave in a hurry.
Conservative and local: he belongs –
they’re not welcome, they sing another song.
Like Winston Smith, I look for hope enough,
and dream: “If there’s hope, it lies in Stokes Croft”.