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Night Time

They pour out of the Pleasure Beach, clubs and all- night bars,
Decent food is hard to reach, too drunk to drive their cars,
These punters don't discriminate, at the burger bar that’s open late,
Blokes in bright shirts, girls in heels, make their way for cardboard meals,
They dance across the busy road, stare at the menu like it’s in code,
Who are they all thinks Greasy Joe, too tired to share their fun,
He hates them all the mocking maul, and makes another burger bun,
‘....then jump off the prom’, whispers Burger Joe as he tries to get a grip,
There's nothing here Joe hasn't seen, but once it was his gastro dream,
He thinks of how it might have been.........
.....'Josephs Bistro' talk of the Blackpool pavement cafe scene,
Pom frites in duck fat, beef that's lean,
fresh onions, and the best cuisine,
Serviettes, bone china plates and home- made ice cream,
Table service to grateful clients, not this greedy angry riot,
How could I ever give my all, to those who urinate against my stall.
At end of play they pay their way, throw their tea, and leave him be,
Staggering and swaggering is it alcohol or BSE, thinks Greasy Joe,
I'm slowly poisoning this town,
Well at least the one’s amongst them who manage to keep it down,
It's not my fault even if I cared, the food comes already pre-prepared,
The meagre profit undeclared,
Is all I have to comfort me, in my burger stall beside the sea.