Down here in the lower Antipodes
lives a creature known as hoon,
despised by cultured societies,
it’s a dense disinhibited loon.

East, west, you’ll find it tripping out,
and moreso in  the wet weather;
the inclement compels it to skid about
driving me to the end  of my tether

Its odious exhaust and rubber pongs
are a regular occurrence at night
and the sonic boom of its rap-crappy songs
wakes the living and long-dead in fright

I’d love to pounce as it swerved by
and teach it a really good lesson
by assailing it with sounds of billy ray cy
and james blunt, 24/7

Its misfiring brain disregards my death stare
as it doughnuts into the the turn
it gives not a toss – why should it  care?
when it’s got new rubber to burn

Are drugs to blame for this sorry tale
of a bogan so devoid of remorse?
No, it’s just an epigenetic epic fail,
unintelligent design, of course