Cough, cough, cough

By RT   

Cough, cough, Cough,
spit on thy concrete slabs, O town!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in a clown

O, hell for the crackhead's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at thieve!
Un well for the junkie lad,
That he clucks in his hovel on the street!

And the estately whores go down and down
To their haven under the bypass;
Butt O for the touch of a varnish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that rasps!

Cough, cough, Cough,
At the foot of thy towerblock, O town!
But the dis grace of a life that is death
Will never come back around.

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A bleak view of a bleak town, mimicking Tennyson\'s \'Break, Break, Break\'.