My Black Barnet Fair

853D7EA8-7403-4B97-BC1B-8BCEC9572B00.jpegThis poem contains cockney slangs.

Don’t touch my Barnet fair, why is it you stop and stare, what’s the fascination you have with a black womans hair, yes you over there, yes I do wash my hair, for my fro to grow, and my locs to rock, you looked so shocked that this is dread locs, although there is nothing dread with what I said,and tell your China plates I ain’t their mate, that’s a brass track, take your bees and honey I want no Barney rubbell you ain’t gonna burst my bubble and have a good bath,this lemon and lime is when we all stand tall, and put our duke of York up coz this black girl hair your can’t touch. Sit down and enjoy your Britney Spear coz right about now I just don’t care your ópinion about my Barnet Fair.


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