My name is W. Z, 8.
I do not start work until late
You may recognize my orange hue
As I clearly come into your view
I am a street lamp, here I always stand
Life for me is not always grand
I’m going rusty though covered in galvanise
This drab grey colour I really do despise
Your dogs they love to wee up me
How would it be if I gave them a jolt of electricity?
They hang scoop the poop signs upon me
Can someone tell me where’s my dignity
I am not political yet every election
They hang their signs on me it looks like an infection
Pictures upon me of a lost cat and dog
My yellow light lets you see them in the fog
Sometime my bulb may just get broke
All the other lamps they make jokes
At night I see tramps sleeping in boxes
That and the owls and the urban foxes
They say Prince Charles likes to hug a tree
Can someone tell me why no one will hug me?
Is it that I’m about twenty feet tall
Do I not provide a service to you all?
So after this I hope you appreciate
Me working in the dark and very late
In the future don’t hit me with your car
Because my life is already hard enough by far