Meneer M. woont al meer as
dareg joar op de vaaierde
verdaipen van de Ranonkelflat
en het al hail wat mitmoakt
en viendt dat Chinezen nooit
op de begoane grond wonen maggen,
mor altied bovenien
 
op hoogste verdaipen,
wegens de vrimde kook- en broadluchten
dij de haile dag deur
t trappenhoes omhoog kwaalmen,
 
je waiten ook nooit
houveul der wonen
en Chinezen binnen sfeerloos.
 
Meneer M. het n grode verzoameln
Europees verduusternspapier
oet Twijde Wereldoorlog.
 
Elk laand haar ander papier.
 
Veurege week is der ien Azzen
van aacht hoog
n Chinees oet n roam doodvalen.
 
‘Hupsakee,’ zegt meneer M.

Mr M. has already lived more than
thirty years on the fourth floor
of Buttercup Block
and been through a thing or two
and feels that Chinese ought never
get to live on the ground floor,
but live always up top
 
on the uppermost storey,
because of the strange cooking and frying smells
that all day long
reek up the staircase,
 
and you never know
how many are living there
and Chinese are quite bland.
 
Mr M. has a large collection
of European blackout paper
from the Second World War.
 
Each country had its own paper.
 
Last week in Assen
from eight floors up
a Chinese fell to his death out a window.
 
‘Ups-a-daisy,’ says Mr M.