Its a ditty about the city I love and live it. I entered it into a sonnet competition - as a joke, mostly.
Obviously it didn't win, but I did get a lovely hand written note back from the judges telling me they liked it.
Untitled (Everybody in Wellington hates Wellington, but like hell they’ll ever leave)
Sometimes you smell like the sea at night
but you’d expect that living in a harbour.
Go! The Cuba Street drinking posse –
there's nothing like seeing the masses pants-down
in the afternoon.
Let the bus drivers go on strike again
I don’t care about standing in the rain.
The friendly cries of Boy Racer’s burnouts don’t keep me awake at night;
I live on the other side of the hill.
Yesterday I said ‘let’s go sit on the beach’
but the sand is hard and the wind slices me like death.
I get hungry in Newtown when the bread factory is in action
until the burned toast smell becomes a little bit suffocating.
Oh Wellington, you sly dog, you.
Sometimes you smell like the sea at night
but you’d expect that living in a harbour.
Go! The Cuba Street drinking posse –
there's nothing like seeing the masses pants-down
in the afternoon.
Let the bus drivers go on strike again
I don’t care about standing in the rain.
The friendly cries of Boy Racer’s burnouts don’t keep me awake at night;
I live on the other side of the hill.
Yesterday I said ‘let’s go sit on the beach’
but the sand is hard and the wind slices me like death.
I get hungry in Newtown when the bread factory is in action
until the burned toast smell becomes a little bit suffocating.
Oh Wellington, you sly dog, you.
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