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- Joined: 30 Sep 2009, 20:53
The Billy that got on my goat I recall was a red headed ranger from Ryde
who sported a nose ring and lots of tattoos and was rude, crude and loud and quite snide.
He fancied himself a remarkable wit and he poked fun at all that he knew -
in fact he was dumb, an unbearable twit, and well deserved the nickname ‘Blue’.
He’d been in more blues with the lads in the town than the pit bull that fought Friday nights
and the coppers had trouble in reining that in and protecting animal rights.
But Billy was worse; he was cursed with a temper that saw him often off his face
and family, friends and the wholly bloody town had labelled him as a disgrace.
His dog couldn’t stand him - he’d growl and he’d bark and he’d heel Billy when in the yard
and Billy was too dumb to work out the reason – just claimed the dog was standing guard.
The truth of the matter was Billy was mean; he’d a mean streak near half a mile wide
and even the toughest blokes down in the clink kept low profiles when he was inside.
His Mum had his measure, she kept him in check when she could and she had done for years -
a belt round the ear hole and kick up the bum saw a young Billy often in tears.
She’d not stand for nonsense from this boy of hers; she had standards she tried to uphold.
And realizing that his fate could be bad in the Army she had him enrolled.
He might as well let all that anger escape in some fighting for his own country.
Not waste it on being a thug and a fool in this town - putting it bluntly.
The army would make her Bill ‘man up’ she thought and teach him a little respect,
and get him from out of her hair for a while – so her plan she considered perfect.
Ten years have now passed, Billy’s been overseas, he’s had ISIS troops in his sight.
Seems he was a marksman, a sniper of note, and a bloke who was born for the fight.
He fought ‘gainst an enemy vicious and cruel and lost not a minute of sleep
disposing of those who partook a Jihad and considered all life to be cheap.
So Billy is now called a hero by some and displays medals now on his chest.
He seems to have found him a brain whilst away and he seems to be tidily dressed.
The town is more tolerant, glad he returned, had he not ‘twould be his Mum that cried,
no more tears would fall, they’d not miss him at all, the red headed ranger from Ryde.
see some scribbles here - http://scribblybarkpoetry.blogspot.com.au/