'astwud blue? top o' tha hill, The reply to the question I asked, Seat of my youth and hazy days long passed, Yet a sadness in me it silently masked. 'astwud yu sae, has one claim to fame, A young author,D.H Lawrence his name, Wrote poems and books, based in his day Whiled the long evening hours away. Carefree, young, in Lawrence's ta'an, Ma're pubs than pits,yet still coal the black gold, Skittles in yards played with laughter and beer, Yet my thoughts of that place asail me with cold. That were back then when he were a lad, Nothing that happened was terribly bad, But now I jump forward to my time spent there, A lifetime wasted in foster care. A ta'an urged and inspired a poet to create, Yet days of despair were oft it gave mae, Drink and drugs bound me to that fate, For that was all there ever could bae. Days sniffing glue, nights sniffing coke, The bong fully laaded, ready tae smoke, A cheap bottle or two of old barley beer, Dour was life, never much cheer. No prospects, no job, a life on the dole, My future was planned, I watched it take shape, I was slowly sinking into a massive black hole, And yet, somehow, I still made my escape. So Mr Lawrence, you can shove your old ta'an, All it was doing was dragging me da'an, Escaping for me was a very close shave, I managed to avoid a very early grave.