The Shortcut (Keep Off the Grass!)

Excuse me son, you can't walk there,
It's strictly out of bounds.
Please come back here, there's a good lad
Just turn yourself around.
What were you thinking, can't you read?
'Keep Off the Grass' it says.
It's not that hard, should I worry?
You alright in the head?

I'm sorry mate, I really am,
I clearly missed that fact,
I thought this was the way to go
Though I'm quite high on crack....
I'll take the longer way around
I'm really not that fussed
As long as I'm there just in time
To catch me final bus.

Alright there love, where you off to?
You can't just wander here,
That aint a public bridleway,
So get your self back here!
You brainless girl, there's clearly many
Signs that say 'Please Stop' -
Am I the only one around
Whose lights are on up top?

What is the problem, honestly
It's just a patch of grass?
I walk real quick, don't worry mate
Just loosen up your arse!
It won't get damaged, Jesus Christ
You'll barely know I've been.
It's such a wicked shortcut
And I'm really fucking keen!

Oi over there, listen, get back
I'm watching you darling
This aint your private prominade
...and pack that spitting in!
I'm sure you're far too busy
To notice your mistake
Come listen here, don't make me shout
(I'm getting a headache...)

Oh my god, I so cannot
Believe you just said that!
I'm so aint doing nuffing wrong
You massive, massive twat!
I'm well telling all of my mates
That you're a right pervert
I bet it's coz you wanna stick
Your fingers up my skirt!

Stop where you are, don't move an inch
You gone too far my friend
The rules aint written for you
To just, at your leisure, bend
What did you think? Did you intend
To get across real quick
Before I'd even noticed - well tough luck
(...you little prick).

Jesus man, what's got your beef?
I'm fucking walking here!
So what if it says 'back up bitch'
Ain't noones bitch, you hear?!
So jog on mate, I'm on my way,
Aint nothing you can do,
Unless you want some beatings
From my proper well 'ard crew!

I really wonder why I stand
And take this everyday.
You'd get less grief on the front lines;
I'm off, sod this I say.
I'm jacking in, I need a change,
So stuff the little gits,
Let them take that shortcut there,
I couldn't give two shits

In all fairness the only loss
Is slightly flatter grass,
So your job, frankly, Mr Boss -
Go cram it up your arse.

 Copyright © 2014 by Simon Austin