Blossomin’ arts an’ a bran’ new feelin’
Oo woulda known it was an art you’re stealin’
Reatractin’ from others yet addin’ new dangers
Can all be sorted, from tawkin’ to strangers

Left over mem’rys still clutter my mind
But we’ll create our very own, I think you’ll find
Love as bootiful as a baby in a manger
Call all be sorted, by tawkin’ to a stranger

Luke Timms

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-im-talking-to-strangers-in-cockney-london-accent/