Ozymandias, as it might have been written by Matt Abbott
November 29, 2015
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He were reet, reet owd, this bloke I saw dahn Westgate.
He went on about two stones: he needed to confess it.
He were mostly drunk. Summat about summat “half sunk”.
I said I still don’t get thee, dad: you’ll have to come again.
This thin and wobbly old bloke turned the volume up to ten.
He said there’s stuff round Wakefield that’s owder than thee and me:
Some got shut by Thatcher: some you still can see:
Like winding-gear and foot-bridges and factories and canals
And them that built that pedestal were some of my best pals.
I hated that Ozymandias, allus broadcasting despair,
As if he owned mortality: it just weren’t bloody fair.
He governed as an Eton twat, as if he didn’t care:
Never went dahn Westgate: he just stopped inside his lair.
I peeked into his garden, once: it were boundless and fucking bare.