Hope dies last

At least it should

Instead it's that twat

Sat in the pub

Up he gets

When you head to the bar

Back from London?

Not for me taa

Down there once

A few year back

Full of them Pakis

And *******, no blacks

Losing your temper

You swallow your beer

Ask the ignorant twat

How he got here?

Tonight pal? I drove

I'm leaving the car

I'll walk back I think

Christ it's not far

You look at him blankly

Toning it down

The twat is now puzzled

Here comes the frown

No, you your family

Where are you from?

I'm Irish and Welsh

There aint no pure pom

He rolls up his sleeve

Revealing his ink

St George, his mum

A dragon...you think

Lovely you say

The colours the lot

Amazing the skill

When they're out of the cot

His heart rate racing

He's been here before

The penny now sailing

Towards the floor

I'm English you cunt

I served for our queen

She's yours you can have her

Outside if you're keen?

You stamp and you stamp

And nothing is said

Enjoy the silence.

The racist is dead.