Infection

Kent once was England's garden, 
But now a new race has been born,
I hear you say "I beg your pardon" 
But it is true I warn. 


Chatham is where I am from, 
And the race I refer to was born here. 
The place is infected with the scum,
And the epidemic has spread I fear. 


They wear gold chains and hoops in their ears,
Their skin is orange with too much foundation,
They hang on street corners drinking beers, 
And threaten the reputation of our nation. 


Their language is lacking,
They know not a lot,
We need to send them packing,
It is the problem we have got.


How did this begin?
It is a big worry we have,
As ruined our reputation has been,
For we are the home of the Chav.