The Ballad of Shoreditch

I was inspired by travelling through Shoreditch, east London.

Are the streets there paved with gold?

The treasures there bewitch.

A shameless marriage of new and old,

The district of Shoreditch.

Elegant girls with long cigarettes,

Gossip about their lives.

Dead eyed beggars full of regrets,

Remembering children, husbands, wives.

Norton Folgate, old Saint Len -

Whose bells will make you rich.

Fire station, cafes, theatres then,

The historical and the kitsch.

Men in the closet furtively scurry,

To meet their hairy lovers.

Each one secretly full of worry,

What if their wife discovers?

Bearded young boys in fashions bizarre,

Make the locals grumble.

Pop-up shops like an East End Bazaar

Whilst trains and buses rumble.

Lurid graffiti on crumbling palisades,

History soon will smother.

Read the advice before its glory fades:

Enjoy and endure each other.