This would suit The Staggers better.
A Smell Recalled
Here on the tram I’m being good
Perched on the leather spruce and clean.
It smells of engine oil and wood
But that is not the smell I mean.
My gran is clad in bible black
Smelling of talc, severe and tall
With buttons going down the back.
But that is not the smell at all.
A notice tells us not to spit.
We do not spit. We are not crude.
We do not see the point of it
And anyway it would be rude.
The spitters stink. They stink of sweat,
Their kids as well, and puke and pee.
And that’s the thing I can’t forget,
The acrid smell of poverty
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