Lairy teenage louts

Spotty young offenders

Spend all their time

Going on benders

With cider pilfered

From a local store

Nicked Regal Kingsize

Shared once more

They collect together

On waste ground

To trash a moped

Someone 'just found'

Chained up behind

A garden gate

The owner not yet

Realising their fate

Their humble transport

Will be rev'd to death

The engine gasping

Each carbureted breath

Their pride and joy

Will be raced around

Crashed and smashed

And dumped to the ground

The crowd will all cheer

As it coughs it last

But there's no mourning

The loss of inertial mass

And if it's lucky

It won't be set alight

But it's breathed its last

Given up the fight

The steed is dead

The rider postulates

Their peer group gather

Back slap and congratulate

But another activity

Needs to be found

To relieve the boredom

And occupy the crowd