PENKNIFE

souf coas laid back homespun rhyme style
hardened, fired and top like rooftile
charcoal makers butchers and bakers
dance to this muthafucking music we makers

woodmen good men shep-herds and sheep-hounds
trance in the muddy puddle pit of the pigpound
so flip frown, mucka, go get a round.
and get drowned. with outta town clowns

pale ale, stale ale, ouse booze you choose
put it in a bottle on the way to the noose
we breaking down doors and letting loose roars
on all fours; all claws and jaws

i flitter like a fluttermouse, sting like a jasper
i'll tell you summat, cos somebody has ter
these ancient shores are under my paws
your broadsword laws won’t help your cause

i've been floating and flying so long
i don't even see myself in this song
but i right my wrongs and i wring my rights
my old land always in my sights

this poem tries to rap like outkast, swinging in a easy country way, also peppered with the old dialect that nobody even speaks.