Ant Smith

All poems

Winners

When Stockton wins the lottery
Hooray Hooray
We’ll have another building for free
Hooray Hooray
All the men will work, for a week or two
And then you know
what they’re gonna do
They’ll be pissing on the
Likes of me and you
When the lottery comes to town.

They’ll get the royals to open it up
Hooray Hooray
And we should not believe our luck
Hooray Hooray
We’ll have our own monstrosity
On the corner of
Prince Regent’s street
It’ll gleam, n it’ll sheen
n it’ll be real neat
When the lottery comes to town.

The queen will make a speech to us
Hooray, hooray
Her loyal subjects under foot
Hooray, Hooray
My husband and I couldn’t give a fuck
About your lives,
n how it’s tough
Your far too dirty n covered up in muck
You don’t speak my language, do you dears, you sound too rough
These doors, all shiny, will be staying firmly shut
For what’s inside is far too good
For people with your kind of luck
And by royal decree, this shrine is reserved for we
When the lottery comes to town.

They act as if it’s understood
Hooray, Hooray
They can twist and turn our neighbourhood
Hooray, Hooray
It may not seem like very much
But we call it home
N we love it as such
So stop tearing all our favourite buildings down
Don’t let the lottery fuck with your town.