#1 – To Dalston we shall go

Twas Friday night in Hoxton Square
Lassitude was driving Neil elsewhere
In want of girls to show his new hair
To Dalston he would go

For Hoxton was stalled and stuck – and stank
Of Italo disco and Britart skanks
Furthermore the gak in Hoxton was rank
But not in Dalston, no

So all smocked up in pastel pinks
Thirsting for bleached wheat beer to drink
The call rang out from urinal to sink
‘To Dalston let us, ho!’

In time they would hit Passing Clouds
To navigate the hipster crowds
And grope young girls in chequered shrouds
For that was Dalston, lo

-Dan Hancox