Last Orders

The bloodshot eyes and shuffling gait

The chilling sound of words of hate

Hairy hands from foreign lands,

The hounds of Hell that light expel.

They drool and stare with unkempt hair

 And grubby nails, tattoos as well.

A howling scream, a warning bell

And gulping down their steaming potions

They tumble out with great commotion

To shuffle, stumble on the street,

And curse and mutter at those they meet.

I shiver, avert my eyes and shudder

At these fire ships without a rudder

And make a mental note to self

To save my money, keep my wealth,

As one some football anthem croons

I’ll never drink in Wetherspoons…

M x