spires and domes, tower bell's ringing jotfull ditties.
thousands of students riding bikes and strutting pretties.
yet there is a dark side not many get to see, in the cities.
with an indifferent mother, a blue eyed spoilt litter brother.
his life so different, not like any other.
the rules were tough for this little brothers brother.
two paper rounds a boy bill worked, morning and night.
5.30am his start rain snow or sunshine peppling his bike.
one shilling and sixpence he'd keep, six shillings my mother would reap.
enrolled in the boy scouts.
his hard earned pennies he had to fork out.
if he wanted to get out to be a boy scout.
tiesday and thursday scout mottos were learnt.
camping on week-ends sleeping on dirt.
alive at last billy the boy scout was born and about.
5.30 am rain snow or sunshine peppling his bike.
delivering newspapers morning and night.
school grades slipped his tired mind not lit.
dodging bullies during the day and my mother at night.
in any fair city , life is not always pretty.
another bill had escaped from home to the city.
he learnt very quickly what life was about.
pedophilesmolesters, deranged questers.
searched the back streets for kids who were out.
bill, not the boy scout, was finally caught out.
a car trip, a scream, he escaped, not a dream.
he told no one about the dangers he'd seen.
5.30am rain snow or sunshine peddling his bike.
delivering newspapers morning and night.
billy was a good boy scout, a leader he turned out.
meeting tuesday and thursday and at camping sites.
so little memory of those better nights.
pedophile infested, boy scouts were tested.
where were we safe, not at home not at school.
not with the boy scouts, nor when he was out.
life was hard, not giving, of that there was no doubt.
5.30am rain snow or sunshine peddling his bike.
delivering newspapers morning and night.
lessons to be learnt, life changing. be alert.
the end composed by me Bill Dempster.
Tammy Jo
