Goose,Tiny,Deadeye and Boyce The lads from the firebrigade, I remember them well. Arrived I did in early January At a bleak boarding school monastery door late at night, Having travelled alone on the train from Dublin To be greeted by the groopy monk Hoppy Who ushered me with my sheets and blankets To the special dormitory for the disturbed boys The troublesome ones Who came from dysfunctional backgrounds. Most of these lads were bedwetters ,teethgrinders, Sleepwalkers and sleeptalkers . The dean of discipline from my last school Had classed me as a depraved delinquent. Well that judgemental bully priest Had cast me in a role –a pigeon hole, An identity I was yet to reach for many years later When outlaw feelings from separation Castigation and denunciation overwhelmed. No –I was another soul in pain Among the misunderstood Who were put away, locked away For our own good –so we were told. Now Deadeye was a dribbler With a very runny nose He had overlapping teeth And wore very country clothes One eye wandered east while the other Checked the west and then he crossed them, When it was best to be silent. He spoke like a machine gun, So so so anxious to pe pe pe please and be understood. He was gentle and courageous Bright intelligent with a brain But his treatment was inane-

And to watch him smile as the “Wild Colonial Boy” Who came from Castlemayne was sung Was a joy, was such a joy for me a very lonely boy. Now Goose was quite a gander He was slightly red and touchy to say the least, That was on the outside But Mr.sensitive deep within, He missed his mother dearly but His father not so much For he had that heavy touch. Now Boycee was out there big time Sought to please and be placated for Wrongs that were never done- Resentments stuck and wrinkled his brow And made him prone to seek oblivion In the animal kingdom all alone. Then Tiny cool and dextrous kept His mind unto himself, picked all brains In his vicinity and aimed for the upper shelf- Waved a scalpel in the science lab and announced His destiny –a surgeon sure for certain .

Now some forty years later, Deadeye slightly stuttered while on the back stairs Of the firebrigade-Doc says he, do you remember?, And I did, and he did too, while Boycee died From his resentments - just avoiding a wet brain, While Tiny and Goose shifted uneasily as we sang “The Wild Colonial Boy” from Deadeye’s town a place called Castlemayne.

23/5/12.