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Thursday, 22 December 2011



They called him
A long time ago
Just skin and bones
Where flesh should grow
A long time ago

A diet of bread and dripping
Or fatty breast of lamb
The kids of Britain lived on this
Throughout this war torn land

Clothing came from scarecrows
So the story goes.
His shoes were full of gapping holes
And cardboard kept them dry
But not the cold from winters snow
When ice did melt inside

They called him Daddy-Long-Legs
His limbs were built to run
Away from bombs and poison gas
His nightmares and the Hun

Skinny little matchstick boy
His ribs were plain to see.
I know this little skinny kid.
That little waif was me.

Peter (Bones) Wicks

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