An Ode To Ellesmere Port

They go around in their hordes,
with bikes, beer and burberry.
They go around in their hordes,
unlike cats, queens and clergy.
They go around in their gangs,
with chips on shoulders and no respect.
Desperation descends as the crate runs dry,
There's no more spends, no money supply.
This leaves only two options for the group of hoods,
Go home early or steal some buds.