Street party bunting.

The neighbours chat, while children

Run around and that.

Black tie, big night, crisp

White invite, fine food, fine wines.

Bored out of their minds.

Dance floor, Dad goes ape,

Gran is in there, throwin’ shapes.

Kids stare, mouths agape.

Party girls slumber

In chic little numbers, wrapped

In boys’ overcoats.

Big Hugh’s in the groove.

Work! Twerk! He gyrates, knocking

Over half his mates.