The old black lady with the stacked trolley
and a plastic bag tied up around her hair,
chucks a bottle at some suited oldboy
that’s just got off the train. He tries to stare
her out, but she just shouts right in his face,
“Take your dutty rubbish with you, Mista!”
I stand up and applaud her. Now we’re mates.
She tells me people always blame the kids
or people that grew up on the estates.
Her stop arrives, she gathers up her things,
no time to hear the story of her life,
she looks to me and says with a sly grin,
“These kids today ain’t seen a proper knife…”