Not completed as of yet; but the first stanza of a poem I've been thinking about telling the little known history of central London

A thousand million ants,
all clutch their yellow bags
Gucci shades, Armani pants
Cockroaches smoking taking drags
standing around looking cool
I could be anywhere in the world
I take them for a fool
A woman passed with hair curled
She has no idea this is Tyburn Road
I call it via Trinobantina
People don't know my ancient code
They force cash into my machina
Where my river Tyburn flowed.